


made it cruisin'

by fullonmonet



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-09-14 16:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16916544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullonmonet/pseuds/fullonmonet
Summary: Spring Awakening!, the university edition.(Or, Havoc gets a new roommate and Hawkeye's inner hot mess is unleashed.)





	1. if you wait for the morning

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't even think i would be back to write another fma fic but i'm in a weird place in my life, i feel frantic, A N D i'm graduating from university in june!!! finally!!! it's been 5 years!! this is my homage to the chaos; i hope you enjoy it ♡
> 
> special thanks to riza hawkeye for being my new favourite disaster pansexual and to blondie's heart of glass for the title

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i found out about the retro text generator i couldn't not use it tbh also idk what happened here
> 
> chapter title: future islands - a dream of you and me

**If interested,**

Contact Jean Havoc now at jean.havoc@uaeast.edu

P.S. This isn’t a weird orgy invite, I’m just broke and desperate!

 

“At least it’s honest,” Riza offers Jean with a grimace after he shoves the flyer in her face and asks her to put it up in her dorm building. She takes the flyer and puts it in her bag along with her other paperwork then goes back to sipping her coffee.

“You’re laughing now, Hawkeye, but some loser out there is just as desperate as me,” Jean tells her with a roll of his eyes as he types something up on his laptop, probably the same dumb ad but on the university’s sketchy Facebook anon confession page.

“ _Ho_ -ney,” Rebecca drawls out, “I think Riz is just looking out for you. You don’t know what kinds of people you’re gonna attract with that flyer, do you?”

“I’m looking for a guy with a sense of humour! And money!”

“I doubt you’re gonna get both, if either,” Rebecca says under her breath. She rolls her eyes and Riza giggles along with her and all that shit about the animals that attend the University of Amestris’ Eastern campus.

“What happened with Heymans?” Riza asks.

“Breda is a fucking bitch, Riz,” Jean swears. “He ditched me to live with an aunt that just moved here, which he knows I can’t say no to, you know?”

Riza sighs and leans back into the couch, stretching her legs out in front of her. “So has anyone, like, emailed you yet?”

“I’ve gotten some, but—Okay, if you’re gonna be in a group work and fucking ditch, how do you have the _balls_ to ask any of the other members if you can live with them? Come on. Then some asshole asked if he _and_ his girlfriend could live there, so I just know they’re gonna kick me out on a majority vote one day.”

Just then, Rebecca stands up with her bag already poised over her shoulder then bends down to give Jean a kiss on the cheek then on his mouth. “I gotta get to work, but text me if someone decent comes knocking ‘round, okay? I love you.”

He watches her saunter out the door of the café then turns to face Riza. “Can’t I just live with you girls?”

Riza just gives him a pitiful smile. “I’d be fine with it, but our place is tiny. You’d have to sleep with Becky’s shoes.”

“You know I ain’t picky.” He really isn’t, and neither has Riza ever known him to be a massive complainer, but like everyone who can’t handle stress, he can get foul and _fast._ Riza’s had enough of all that, but more than anything—

“Please have mercy on me; I already walked in on y’all _twice_ ,” Riza begs. “Twice! And once was in the bathroom!”

All Jean can do was laugh it off with that sheepish raise of a hand to the back of his neck as the tips of his ears turned red. “Fine, and since you’re the only reason I ever passed Amestrian history class, this is _my_ favour to _you_.”

“Thank you. And your phone’s got an email alert.”

“It’s a taker! I’m gonna go check this out while I smoke outside. You mind watching my shit, Riz?” Jean says hurriedly as he takes the pack of cigarettes out of his bag and puts a stick in his mouth before even reaching the door.

 

 

Back in Riza and Rebecca’s closet apartment, Rebecca falls into a heap all over Riza’s lap with the strong reek of alcohol all over her. “I hate men soooooooooooo much,” Rebecca slurs to the point of tears, wiping her face with the back of her hand then with her scarf. “Especially frat guys, what’s up with that!” Her voice hikes up before she takes Riza into her arms and squeezes her tight.

“Hey, slow down,” Riza shushes her. “What happened?”

“This guy from Rho Sigma, Kimberly or something, is a total scumbag. I want to see his ass _expelled_.” She faces Riza with all her lashes drooped down, heavy with tears, and her cheeks stained red. “Help me, Riz. Please say you’ll help me. Can you _believe_ , like he offers me a ride home and when I wake up, I’m alllllllll the way across town—I ruined my best shoes, he’s gonna fucking pay!”

Riza grabs her face with both hands and giggles at how Rebecca looks at her with wide eyes, fish lips. She kisses her on the forehead then goes, “We’re gonna report his ass tomorrow, okay?”

“Isn’t the school, like, eating out of Rho Sigma’s ass?” Rebecca whines. “This sucks. _I_ could get suspended.” She lets Riza brush the hair away from her face and pouts, which Riza can’t resist.

“I’m not letting that happen. Someone has to teach them a lesson,” Riza reassures her. Rebecca lets out a squeal and hugs Riza so tightly, filling Riza’s nose with the honest-to-fucking-god awful smell of alcohol and sweat and grease.

“Oh my god, you’re literally the best ever, Riz,” Rebecca coos. “I’m gonna take a fucking shower _right_ now and wake up bright and early!” She barely makes it to her bed before falling asleep.

 

 

“What’s he like, this new fabulous roommate of yours?” Rebecca asks in the midst of stirring almond milk into her coffee, her other hand bringing her fleece jacket tighter around her body. She woke up around eight, like she promised, then went back to sleep till way past noon and called Jean to come over as soon as she woke up to complain about the goons of Rho Sigma.

(“Why didn’t you call me?” Jean asks with his hands curling into tight fists. “I know that guy. He’s one of those smartasses always going on about Machiavelli even if _The Prince_ isn’t everything he thinks it is. I wanna kick his ass.”

“Riz and I are reporting him first thing on Monday,” Rebecca tells him.

“Like _shit’s_ gonna happen to Rho Sigma,” Jean says with a derisive scoff. “Breda and I are gonna kick his ass, because it’s what he deserves.”

“ _I’m_ reporting him,” Rebecca insists. “This can’t happen to anyone else.”)

“He’s real motherfuckin’ smart,” Jean says right away. “I don’t think I’ve ever been near anyone that smart, ‘cept for you, Hawkeye. Double majored in chemistry and political science and he’s still here doing his PhD… Man, I’d never catch up with that guy.”

“What’s his dissertation on?” Riza asks. She’s got together a big thing of fridge leftover scramble that she sets on the countertop between Rebecca and Jean before settling down on the last stool with her own cup of coffee.

“Thermodynamics?”

“What?”

“I don’t know! He likes burning shit!” Jean exclaims with a frown. After a big bite of scrambled egg, he grins up at Riza. “Wanna meet him?”

Riza only stares back. “I mean, it’s the proper thing to do, I guess.”

“I _mean_ , I wanna set you two up,” he says, using his fork to gesture between Riza and an imaginary body by the fridge. “I think he’s perfect for you, really.”

Rebecca rolls her eyes but nudges Riza’s calf with her toes anyway. “How about it, Riz?” she asks. “Come on, you can’t graduate college a _virgin_.”

“Who said I was?” Riza shoots back, her face heating up. Jean laughs at how Rebecca’s fork falls from her fingers with a clatter, but the tips of his ears are a bright red.

“Babe, Hawkeye hasn’t been a virgin in _years_ ,” Jean tells her.

“Who was it with?!” Rebecca demands. “I know I joined the gang a lil’ late, and I’m _sorry_ I assumed you were a virgin, Riz, but you can’t blame me! Like, you only leave the apartment for class and laundry and work—”

“It was me,” Jean admits. “Freshman year, Miles threw this crazy party, and…”

By then, Rebecca had covered her ears and was squealing, “Noooo, I’m too hungover for this; leave me alooooneeee!”

“I can’t believe you told her,” Riza tells Jean, who only shrugs then gives her a wink.

“No regrets, right, Hawkeye?”

“Stop!!” Rebecca shouts, her face cracking up into a laugh. “Okay, I don’t want you graduating only having sex like _once_ —don’t correct me, Jean, or I’ll castrate you—”

“I don’t mind,” Riza finally says.

“That’s the spirit, Hawkeye!”

“At least let us see what he looks like,” Rebecca insists. “You’re not just saying all this to help him get laid, right? Riza deserves better than some anime-loving dweeb who breathes through his mouth.”

“For the record, I have no idea what he likes. He just seems to be some science nerd through and through, but he looks kinda good, if I say so myself.” Jean whips out his phone then scrolls through his camera roll. “See, that’s him cleaning our bathroom.”

“Now _I_ want him,” Rebecca remarks.

“Hey!”

“Shit, Riz, if Jean somehow pulls this off, you’re in for the hookup of your _life_.”

 

 

“Hawkeye,” Breda says. He’d just entered the room and was now taking his seat beside Riza. “Please tell me you didn’t do the reading.”

Riza only smiles at him pitifully. “You know I did.”

“Fuck!” he swears, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “Okay, can you just, like, summarise it for me real quick? They held me hostage at work last night, I swear I’m quitting before the holidays come ’round…”

Without another word, Riza supplies him her own annotated reading, which he flips through with an appreciative nod.

“Thanks, I owe ya one,” he says when he returns her printout. “Wanna get lunch after class? I mean, if I’m still alive after Hohenheim chews me out for not explaining properly why institutions like prisons only perpetuate a vicious cycle of oppression with no real interest in solving any of the institutional problems that lead to their supposed necessity.”

“Bold of you to act like you didn’t do the reading,” Falman comments drily as he takes his own seat behind Breda. “Hawkeye, may I borrow your notes? I didn’t understand Hohenheim’s rambling last time.”

“Okay, the worst class still has to be that one on the Church of Leto,” Breda complains. “You’re lucky you didn’t take it, Falman; there was no actual theology in it, either from the poor construction of the religion itself or because Father Cornello has got to be the dumbest person alive.”

“You liked refuting him,” Riza points out, which makes Breda laugh.

“You got me, Hawkeye. So you’re game for lunch?”

“Next week, maybe. I have a date after class.” It felt weird for Riza to think about, letting it guide her into wearing something a little gussied up for the day, even if she felt a chill because of the dress's light fabric.

Breda and Falman must have only noticed her dress now, their piqued interest forced to die down as Hohenheim enters the room. But they corner her right as the bell rings, hovering over her as she fixes up her bag. “Hawkeye, what do you mean you got a date?” Falman asks.

“A date. I guess it’s a blind one, but—”

“Who set you up? Was it Havoc?” Breda demands. “It is, right? So who’s the guy? Someone he met from the bar who’s convinced him he’s a good guy, no doubt.”

“Well, ish. I’m meeting his roommate.”

The revelation surprises Breda. “The PhD guy? Shit, I’d be careful, Hawkeye. No one in their right mind would take Havoc’s roommate wanted ad seriously, PhD candidate or not.”

“It won’t hurt just to have coffee with the guy,” Riza tells them with a roll of her eyes. “I promised Jean and Becky I would, so I’m gonna.” She slings her bag over her shoulder then gets up from her chair, heading towards the door.

Breda sighs and follows her, Falman at his heels. “We’ll walk you there.”

“Thanks, Heymans, but I don’t think a bodyguard is necessary.”

“Nah, I just wanna see the loser Havoc replaced me with.”

 

 

He’s late, rushing through the door of the café with his head moving wildly, trying to find Riza, who sees him and waves, so he makes his way over to her gratefully. “Sorry, I’m late,” he says in between breaths. His hand moves up to the back of his neck, cradling it while a sheen of sweat stained the collar of his frankly overused t-shirt from the university’s campus in West City.

“It’s fine,” Riza brushes off. Everything about him seemed undone. “Do you wanna get a drink or something…?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I should… Uh, I’ll be back.” With his wallet in hand, he goes to the counter to order a coffee.

Riza takes the time to wrap up her work then place them back into her bag.

“For the record,” he begins as soon as he gets back, settling into the table with the pretence that this isn’t awkward at all, “I’m only doing this to indulge Havoc and his girlfriend.”

“You and me both,” Riza sighs with a stir of her coffee. “I’m honestly not looking for anyone right now. Mustang, right?”

“Roy,” he corrects. “You can call me Mustang, if you want, but I thought it’d be better if you… had options.”

That makes Riza smile. She says, “I’m Riza. Hawkeye.”

“Okay, this is gonna sound creepy-slash-off-putting, but are you related to Berthold Hawkeye?” And right off the bat, Riza doesn’t like him.

“Were you his student?”

“Yeah, I had him as an undergrad over at West. He was my thesis adviser, too.”

“Sounds like you had an earful, then,” Riza remarks drily.

“Is that why you’re here at East?” Roy then asks, frowning when she frowns.

“I’m here because East has the best humanities courses,” Riza argues, “not because I hate my dad, or whatever.” Which is true, as far as East being good at the humanities is concerned.

“Yeah, there’s some serious money here,” he comments. “I wanted to finish school at West City, but they said I’d have keep going back and forth to Central for my research.”

Riza slumps down on the couch as soon as she gets home, laying her head on top of Rebecca’s lap while Rebecca just stares at her through the glow of her iPad. “I don’t like him, Becky.”

“What happened? Jean said he was cool.”

“He keeps talking about my damn father. Is he just, like, oblivious to my obvious discomfort? Or does he want me to feel bad that I don’t care about how good my dad is at his fucking job?”

Rebecca finally sets down her iPad on armrest then plays with Riza’s hair, the mechanical action soothing Riza. “Listen, Riz,” she starts in a soft voice, “you know I’m like the last person to make excuses for guys when they’re being shitty, but I’m sure Roy’s just, like… Like he can’t wrap his head around some guy he totally respects being an asshole, you know? And it’s not like you can elaborate stuff like that on the first date.”

“Ugh,” Riza scoffs. “He could’ve at least switched topics when he saw I wasn’t all _enthusiastic_ about chemistry.”

That gets a sigh out of Rebecca, and she says, “So sorry, hon. I know it’s gonna be impossible to avoid him, but let’s just be civil, okay?” Mostly for Jean’s sake. Riza nods her head, letting out a squeal when Rebecca leans down on her to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Riza Hawkeye, I’m gonna get you laid even if it kills me.”

 

***

 

“Hi, welcome to McDonald’s,” Riza greets. “May I take your order?”

“Gimme the usual,” Jean slurs out. Riza sighs and punches in three cheeseburger meals and a hot fudge sundae, not failing to notice how sheepish Jean looks.

“What’s wrong?” Riza asks.

“Sorry, Riza, Mustang and I went over to Rho Sigma—”

“ _What_?”

“Look, we just roughed Kimblee up a bit, then Mustang said he wanted to drink, so now he’s passed out in one of the booths. Please don’t tell your manager.”

Riza pinches the bridge of her nose before saying, “Thanks for what you did, but I can’t spend my whole shift taking care of him.” It might be two in the morning, but it’s a McDonald’s across a college campus on a Saturday evening. Someone had come in to order a fish burger and cried about the bread not being gluten-free, leaving Riza to do the right thing of wrapping the fried fish patty in some lettuce that hadn’t been shredded yet.

“You’re not gonna take care of him,” Jean promises. “Just help me sober up so I can drag his ass home.”

“What’s he doing with you anyway?” Riza asks with her back turned to him as she fills up three cups with coke.

“Am I not cool enough to be with?” Jean whines.

“You’re cool,” Riza reassures him. It’s in the same tone that she used on the girl to say that gluten is indeed evil, never mind that the fish patty was entirely covered in breadcrumbs, right?

“It’s so fucking funny, like Mustang just got out of a presentation, so he was landing suckers in full corporate attire—”

“You go right ahead. The fries are gonna take two more minutes.”

Jean grins and says, “Sweet,” before going in deeper to sit inside the booth. He’s on his phone, scrolling through his Twitter when Riza finds him, the opposite bench looking suspiciously empty.

“Where is he?”

“Ah, he went to the bathroom.” Jean’s brows began to furrow together, and he slowly says, “Come to think of it, it’s been a while.”

“ _Jean_ —” Without another word, Riza goes right back to the counter and gets the key to the bathroom from the manager.

Roy’s legs are sticking out of the cubicle when she unlocks it, the door opening to reveal his head rested on the toilet seat and a light snore. He looks a damn mess, like a freshman who was excited about finally being eighteen and no longer having to get some older guy to buy alcohol for him. It’s the baby face, probably, and the serenity of his sleeping face.

“Roy,” Riza says as she nudges Roy with her foot.

He doesn’t respond, not even when Riza tries to pull him up from the seat in order to prop his back against the wall. His head lolls to the side, still snoring.

“Roy,” Riza says again, in a much louder voice this time. Her mind is literally incapable of comprehending her misfortune, fixated only on doing her fucking job, because otherwise the manager would have to get involved…

So she slaps him, bringing his head over to his right shoulder, then slaps him again. “Roy Mustang!” she shrieks as she grabs his shoulders and shakes him so hard that the back of his head bounces back from the wall and he jolts awake with a slurred shout:

“Fuck—!”

“That’s _my_ line,” Riza snaps.

“Did I fall asleep here?” Roy wonders out loud, his eyes still in a daze. “Shit, I’m sorry. I know it looks bad.”

“It _is_ bad,” Riza corrects him. “Jean’s waiting for you out there. You should go home.”

Roy uses his hand propped up on the toilet seat to support himself as he stands up. It was a nice shirt he had on, but now it was all wrinkled and the collar popped up on one side. “Thanks for waking me up.”

“It’s my job,” Riza tells him.

“We never agreed on a second date, by the way,” he adds.

Now that this isn’t a Situation™, Riza wished she could hide behind her manager instead of getting asked out on a date in the men’s toilet of a McDonald’s by some guy who looked like Post Malone’s half-brother. And smelled like it. Riza bites her lip and says nothing.

“I know last time wasn’t… great… I kept talking about your dad, which isn’t fair to you at all—I was just so nervous and didn’t know what else to say, so I’m. Sorry. Riza. For running my mouth and not paying attention to you. But I think you’re really pretty and intelligent, and I wanna see you again.”

It’s slurred, and Riza wished she was drunk herself so the words could just float past her head. Eventually, she opens her mouth and tells him, “Sorry, I gotta get back to work.” Then go home to talk to Rebecca about it; this obviously wasn’t something that should happen in the men’s toilet of a McDonald’s.

Roy’s gaze drops to the floor. “Right,” he says. He lets Riza leave the bathroom and they walk together to where Jean’s seated.

“Shit, Mustang,” Jean says with a laugh.

“I’ll get you guys some water,” Riza offers, quickly ducking back to the counter to fill up two measly plastic cups with water that she gives them without so much as talking to Jean. It takes them about ten more minutes to get through their food. When they leave, all Riza could do was cover her face with her hands and let out a huge groan that startles Kain, the sophomore who was on duty with her.

“Drunk guys causing a scene again?” Kain asks gently.

“The male ego is literally the worst thing to happen in the history of mankind.”

 

***

 

**VARIATIONS OF GLASS**

Riza Hawkeye, CW124 Sec. B

 

**Reductive**

Once I had a love, and it was a gas.

 

**Antonymy**

It’s a pain in the ass to have a love now.

 

**Subtle Insight**

Love is easy when you’re young.

 

 

**A Tweet**

Once I had a love, and it snatched my wig: a thread.

 

**Doubtful**

I _think_ it was a gas.

 

 

“I’m stuuuuuck,” Riza moans, smashing the keys of her laptop together till her assignment got buried in a pile of shit letters. “From what planet did Armstrong get this batshit idea?”

Rebecca, who was hovering over Riza with a cup of coffee, tucks her chin on Riza’s shoulder to steal a look. “Hmm… anything goes?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” It was an elective on poetry, but all Riza has learned so far is that being bad at it is sorely testing her patience.

“I’m not good with all that literary stuff, but, like, remember when you had to help me out on that stupid ad assignment two years ago?”

 

 

**Recruitment**

We want YOU!  
To defend our FREEDOM  
and LOVE

 

 

Once Riza’s finished typing it up, she faces Rebecca with a pout, begging for more.

“Sorry, hon, I’m all out.”

“Fine,” Riza sighs. “I’ll head out for a bit and see if I find something.” Which she has to revise later on, but she’ll cross that bridge when she gets there. As she shrugs on her jacket, Rebecca reminds her to stay safe and to leave the keys by the front door; she’s going to bed. Riza’s jealous.

The walk outside was brisk, maybe _too_ crisp, her face warming up with the tingling sensation of needles as she sits down on the bench by the bus stop, grateful for the radiator. She pulls her laptop out of its sleeve and stares at the screen as she tries to listen to the sounds of the passersby, taking in their parlances without entertaining the voice in her head that was telling her to give up.

“You know the buses don’t run this time of night, right?” came Roy Mustang’s voice as he materialised in front of her, scarf covering most of his mouth to the point of it muffling his words.

“I’m just doing my assignment,” Riza tells him, fingers subconsciously typing _Assonance_ as she spoke. Just her luck, really. Then, as if to really piss her off, she presses enter and writes down _Chemistry_. “Where are you off to?”

“Can’t sleep,” he says plainly. “What’s your assignment about?”

“It’s for my creative writing elective,” Riza answers, now typing down _Interrogation_.

“Anything I can help with? You could bounce your ideas off of me or something.”

“I hate to admit it, but just talking to you gave me a few ideas,” Riza says, so she pats down the space on the bench next to her for Roy to sit down, which he takes while unravelling his scarf to let it rest squarely on his shoulders.

Roy peers into her screen and scoffs, “Because of the gas laws?”

“It’s the first draft. We’re gonna do workshop anyway, so…” Riza’s voice trails off as she tries to inch her face and laptop screen away from Roy. “Anyway, I need something more refined, like—”

“Shakespeare?” Roy suggests with a laugh.

 

 

**Assonance**

One was fun, a done gone omen.

 

**Interrogation**

What are you doing here?  
What are your reminiscences?  
Do you long for this?

 

**Chemistry**

love = nRT/PV

 

**Limerick**

There was once a girl in her teens  
Had music in her genes  
There was something she had  
When it was gone, she was sad  
A love only in screens

 

 

“I really should’ve gone out more when I was younger,” Riza says as she rereads her work with a cringe. “I guess that’s why I don’t really take creative writing electives.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just have nothing to write about. I’d sound like Guy In Your MFA,” Riza grouses. “ _As she thought of him, a thunderous beat crashed between her legs, and her nipples…_ ”

“That’s not true. You’re not longing for the girl you engineered from the five seconds of eye contact you had with a waitress in the only tavern in all of Resembool,” Roy teases.

“Yeah, ‘cause that’d be you,” Riza retorts, making Roy roll his eyes but smile at Riza good-naturedly.

“The girls in Resembool _do_ remind me of a simpler time…”

That makes Riza laugh, loud enough to peal into the night.

“Anyway, I don’t know what kind of experiences you think you need to have, but everything’s what you make of it, I think,” Roy eventually says. In the faint white light of the bus stop, Riza could see the tips of his ears turn a bright pink. “Sorry,” he then stammers out, “I don’t want to impose—”

Riza shakes her head. “You have a point. I mean, what do I mean when I say I want to go out more? Really?”

“Fuck?”

“No.”

“Drugs?”

“Tempting, but I honestly don’t think the Beat writers were all that.”

“You wanna get so drunk you black out and wake up in a train bound for Creta.”

“Shit,” Riza breathes out. “Is partying all there is to it?”

“I’m twenty-seven, Riza. I don’t have my shit together, so don’t ask me.”

 

 

It’s eight in the morning when Riza wakes up, mostly to the loud clanging of cereal getting poured into a bowl along with Rebecca’s standard almond milk. Rebecca also shouts, “Riz, if you’re eating cereal, please buy a new box before you go home!”

Riza groans, “Fine.”

“By the way, what time did you come home last night?”

“Late.”

“Did you get any work done?”

“Yeah.” It’s then that Riza forces herself to really sit up on the bed and raise her voice: “For fuck’s sake, Becky, I got home at three last night, let me fucking sleep.” She lets out a sigh when Rebecca materialises by her door, bowl of cereal tucked dangerously between her arm and her chest.

“Doing what?” Rebecca demands, her mouth curling up into a sly smile.

“My work,” Riza answers deadpan.

Rebecca rolls her eyes and counters, “Bullshit, you never let yourself work past midnight,” before she spoons cereal into her mouth.

Riza flushes at the callout. “Yeah, okay, whatever, I was just hanging out somewhere last night.”

“Wow, next thing you know, you’re attending a home game—Not that I think you think you’re above it all, Riz, it’s more like it’s… Don’t tell Jean I told you, but you know how the winter party is pretty much just us getting you drunk? Anyway, my point is that I’m loving this new you, and if you ever wanna save me from dreary nights of building my portfolio, then _please_ drag me with you.”

 

***

 

Riza walked out of workshop with unanimous critiques on her lack of engagement with the original text. She doesn’t even have it in her to be disappointed; there really was no engagement, even if they liked the pop culture references, because of all the I Think This Could Benefit From Further Additions.

She’ll figure it out, one way or another. Think about it as she goes over some other literature for her thesis proposal, maybe. She’d taken out a bagful from the library and is now poring over one by the counter at work, making hurried comments into a notebook with one hand.

It’s a dead hour, about seven am on a Saturday, and she knows she only got this assignment because she said she could “work through anything”, even through the dread of having grease or soda stain the book before she could return it safely. Rebecca calls it her Virgo quality, but Riza sees it as just something necessary, like the nagging thought in her head that’s saying she can’t find anything better than decent pay for roughly twelve hours of work a week.

“Earth to Riza,” says Ed, the kid on duty, “are you okay?”

Riza snaps out of her thoughts to see him leaning over a mop, eyes lidded over in boredom. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

“You’re a lit major, right? I need help with this essay for class.”

“Sure, what’s it about?”

At that, Ed stares at her, mouth agape. “You’re not gonna scold me about the spilled coke I left over there?” he asks, and true enough, Riza just notices the table covered in coke that dripped down its edges while Ed comments, “Now I know you’re _not_ okay.”

“I’ll clean it up, Edward,” Riza sighs. “And I’m fine, really. Thanks for asking.”

Ed doesn’t seem convinced (Riza always did think he was awfully astute for a sixteen-year old), but shrugs it off. “It may not mean much, but if you wanna talk, I’m here… to listen,” he offers, his eyes not quite meeting hers as they trail towards the door. It makes Riza smile anyway.

“Maybe when you’re older,” Riza teases, ducking out of the counter to go clean up the spill while Ed grumbles behind her.

 

 

When she finally gets out of work, she realises she only has a couple of hours to get ready for Rebecca’s birthday party as well as buy her a gift, so she rushes and settles for this aromatic diffuser that she knew Rebecca’s always wanted for the romance of it. (“Aren’t I the most typical Leo?” Rebecca asked her as they were exiting the store after repeated returns to the shelf with the diffuser and the essential oils. “I just think sex is better with some bergamot on.”)

She arrives to the party in its full swing, if a table at the bar near campus meant for eight but crammed in nearly twenty people could be called that, and she makes her way over to Rebecca with a kiss to her cheek and the gift.

“Oh my god, I’ve been drinking since Jean and I got here,” Rebecca whispers to her, though with the loud music and her tipsiness, she was practically shouting. “So now I have to get _you_ drunk, Miss Hawkeye.”

“Becky, I don’t—”

“Oh, pretty please? You only turn twenty-two once.” Jean had passed to Rebecca a glass filled with cheap whiskey and a couple cubes of ice, which she hands over to Riza with a sly grin. “Don’t worry about being my nanny; Jean’s here,” Rebecca tells her.

In a surprising show of restraint, Jean was barely drinking. Instead, he busied himself with pouring for everyone else, then getting lazy and dumping everything into a large glass of radioactive sludge (his terms). Riza shrugs and downs her glass as if it were a shot then extends it towards Jean for another pour.

“Ready for the sludge, Hawkeye? It’s gonna blow your fuckin’ brains out.”

 

 

“ROY MUSTANG OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR RIGHT NOW IT’S COLD OUT HERE!” Riza shouts. She’s banging on the door—first with her knuckles then with the side of her fist—and was on her way to kicking the door down when it finally opens and Roy only looks at her with bleary eyes.

“You called?”

“Fuck,” Riza groans, her entire body freezing up as soon as she saw him, “I didn’t think this through.”

“Kudos to your self-awareness, I guess,” Roy retorts. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” Came here to fuck. Or something like that. She grabs him by the collar and kisses him, the way their teeth knock together sending her back with a gasp of pain. Roy takes hold of her upper arms and squeezes them tight, keeping her at a distance.

“Do you wanna talk…?” Roy offers, words coming out slow and hesitant.

“I…” She shrugs him off to teeter past him and into the living room, and he’s left frozen by the doorway. “I’m not good,” she says as she sinks into the couch, all her life seemingly draining towards her toes. “At talking, I mean. I can’t talk—Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you.”

He turns around with this silly smile that he has to school into neutrality before pointing out, “You’re talking right now, see. So why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” He sits himself down on the end of the couch opposite Riza.

“I hate that you’re right, like, always,” Riza grouses. She’s staring past him, as if to read her words off the wall, and she can’t stop. “You seem to be the only person who gets that part of me that wants to curl up inside of myself. Like, I really get putting myself out there—I _want_ to, but for some godforsaken reason or other, I can’t, like I know I’m not worth knowing.” When she meets Roy in the eye, her mouth dries up and she keeps it shut.

“Riza—” He stops himself, hand coming up to his face to rub at it, and after, he scoots himself forward a bit, nearer to Riza. Then he rests his elbow on the back of the couch, his cheek on his curled up fist. “What are you ashamed of, Riza?” he asks in a quiet voice. Riza doesn’t cry; she only looks at him in cold silence, head lolling into the couch as her eyes open and close slowly, the rest of her body limp.

“Nothing,” she says eventually. “What about you?”

“Nothing,” Roy echoes.

“I’m just disappointed.”

“I get that.”

“Like I’ll never be good enough.”

“Me, too, but that doesn’t mean you should stop trying,” Roy says, hand extended for Riza to take. His hand is warm when Riza slips her hand in, rough around the edges and also slightly sweaty. He helps her up and leads her to his bedroom then excuses himself so he can get some sleep.

“Wait,” Riza stops him by the hallway. Her face is so hot, her mouth trying to form itself in a grimace to mimic her twisted stomach, which was full of anticipation. “Can you stay with me?” she asks in a small voice. “You don’t have to sleep with me, but just—”

He kisses her before she can continue, placing a hand on the nape of her neck and the other cupping her face. She’s startled, a faint gasp that’s remained frozen in her mouth, but she quickly melts into the kiss, threading her fingers through his hair as she nips on the swell of his bottom lip. His body is pressed against her, the weight shifting them further inside the bedroom and onto the bed. It creaked as they kept shifting, trying to find the spaces where they’d fit.

She has him between her legs, her knees relaxing and lowering to open herself up even more for him, his weight settling on her hips without digging in. He keeps kissing her in tiny pecks along the sides of her face, the bridge of her nose, her jawline. It’s hot and suffocating, and she’s gasping for breath, nails curling into his shoulders, sinking into them.

“Do you want me to stop?” Roy murmurs when he leans over her, mouth ghosting over the skin on her throat.

“Don’t,” Riza breathes out. She arches up to meet him, skin tingling where his hand is resting on her hip, her dress hitched up and his thumb playing with the band of her panties. At this point, she can’t tell at all if she’s still drunk—she’s hyperaware of her own skin, almost like it’s threatening to jump out or burst, but as he mouths at her throat, she feels heady and light.

He brings his head further down, nipping along her exposed skin before swiping at it with his tongue to soothe it. She sees him between her thighs. His nose grazes slightly against her mound and he takes in a deep breath, the sound of it so loud in the quiet room, the early morning. With both hands, he drags her panties down her legs and sets them on the bedside table while she takes off her dress, tossing it to land over her shoes. Her bra follows.

Roy stares hard. His hands are placed on her knees to keep her legs open, but she can feel them quivering slightly, like his lips when he kisses her inner thigh. A whine comes out of Riza; she tugs on his hair with impatience, so he puts his mouth on her, sucking lightly on her clit.

Something in Riza feels loosened up, and she lets out what sounds like a relieved sigh. It seems so loud in her own ears, almost as if it weren’t hers; she only understands Roy’s tongue lapping her up in small, pointed strokes or the way he’d take a few moments to take her clit in his mouth or run the flat of his tongue against it. Her entire core felt ready to collapse.

She comes quick and hard, sounding strangled in her gasps. Her skin is curling all the way to her toes, head and back entirely arched back as her hips rise to meet his mouth. The pads of his fingers stroke her through her orgasm in lazy circles, and he looks at her in the same way, eyes lidded and dreamy.

Remembering that she woke him up in some ungodly manner, her embarrassment comes back in a heat wave across her face. She sits herself up and kisses Roy again, tasting sourness and salt and bitterness and licking every trace of it from his lips, his tongue. He kisses her back and acquiesces to her when she plays with the hem of his shirt.

It’s late, she knows that, and the tiredness is starting to sink in, but she wants to keep going. Roy’s gotten his pyjamas off, too, and he settles back into the bed with so much warmth radiating off of him. Riza shifts her hips till she has her knees on either side of his body, hands curling loosely around his neck as she enjoys the feeling of his skin on the backs of her thighs.

“I can’t,” Roy tells her with a shake of his head and an apologetic smile. “No condoms.”

“Can’t we steal one from Jean?”

Roy sinks his head down to rest on her shoulder when he lets out a laugh, his arms tightly wrapped around her waist. “Next time,” he says—offers?

Riza lets out a sigh. “Next time,” she promises. She wriggles herself free and pulls him down on the bed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riza's assignment is based on Adam David's '[El Bimbo Variations](https://www.scribd.com/document/28067009/Adam-David-El-Bimbo-Variations)' and though most of the text itself is in Filipino, the idea could be appropriated into a myriad of languages and their respective literary cultures. I'm not an excellent writer by any means but I thought it was a fun exercise to do despite the surface-level manipulations of the lyric. Anyway! I hope you guys found this chapter enjoyable TT Thanks for reading!


	2. this much is true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long TT i'm gonna try my best to update more regularly, but i don't really see this as something that will take much longer to finish… probably only a couple of chapters left, but i'll try my best to finish them asap!!
> 
> as usual, it's unbeta'd… one day i'll build the habit of facing my fear to go through my work but it didn't happen today
> 
> on another note, i finally made a [twitter account](https://twitter.com/fishbowI) for anime and stuff~ i'd love to talk fma with you guys ♡
> 
> chapter title: spandau ballet - true

The sunlight filtering in Roy’s bedroom is warm, as warm as the arm Roy has wrapped around her back, his nose pressed into her hair like he’s breathing her in. It’s a lot for what was probably six or seven in the morning. Every muscle in Riza’s body is tense as she tries to wriggle herself out of the bed without disturbing him. She manages, stepping around the room very deliberately to pick up her clothes and put them on by the door.

She walks out of the room and into the living room-slash-kitchen, where she finds Jean seated by the counter with a cup of coffee. So she lets out a shriek then immediately covers her mouth while Jean glares at her.

“You’re so loud,” Jean grumbles with a rub of his fingers to his temples.

“I-I thought you were staying over at our place,” Riza stammers.

“I was, until Becks kicked me out because she found out I had to start my thesis proposal all over again.”

“Please don’t tell Becky,” Riza pleads. “I’ll tell her myself, but don’t say anything until I do, okay?”

“Fine, but what’s the big deal? We _did_ set you guys up, you know,” Jean points out. A grin stretches over his face when he declares, “You’re just embarrassed I caught you. Coffee?”

“I hate you, Havoc.”

“Ha! Get in line, babe,” Jean says as he whips up another mug, tipping two teaspoons’ worth of instant coffee crystals into it. “So how is he, Riz? Terrible?”

“He’s considerate,” Riza answers after a pause. She accepts the mug with grace and takes a good long sip, positioning herself on the stool opposite him.

Jean is still grinning at her, this lazy, goofy smile that’s like he’s got nothing figured out but it’s okay. “Now I’m no Becky, but I miss talking to you,” he admits. “Things are getting kinda hectic now, with thesis and all.”

“I miss you, too,” Riza says. “I feel like all I ever think about and do is work.”

“Mustang, too,” Jean teases to Riza’s weak protests. “So what’s up between you two?”

“I don’t know. He’s attractive… I guess. I find it easy to talk to him, which is probably the more important thing.”

“Mustang just _gets_ people.” Jean nods at his own words, takes a sip of his coffee. With a frown and a scratch of his head, he goes, “He tells me shit like I shouldn’t accept that people think I’m dumb.”

“He’s right,” Riza offers. “It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy sort of thing.”

“Yeah! I’m not gonna be no fancy-pants lawyer like Breda wants to be, but I’ve got brains,” Jean agrees. “Staying for breakfast?”

“Love to, but I gotta go. I got a deadline, plus I have a meeting with my professor.” She just wants to go home, if she’s being honest, not that that ever mattered.

Jean frowns as well. “No wonder you’re up so early…” he mutters.

“I normally can’t sleep much either when I get drunk—like, I’m so aware of how dizzy I feel. I hate it.”

“Normally I just pass out,” Jean says with a snort. “Text me when you get home, okay? Becky’s phone’s dead.”

“Of course.” Riza stands up to put her now empty mug into the sink then kisses Jean on the cheek. “Thanks for coffee, Jean.”

Jean leans into Riza’s half-hug and pats her on the back. “Have fun with your prof or whatever. Just try not to look like you’re doing a walk of shame out of here.”

 

 

“Miss Hawkeye, you’re quite early,” Professor Armstrong notes with a clearing of his throat. Riza tries not to pay too much attention to what was probably Armstrong’s version of casual wear, a vest layered under a university jacket. “Are you alright? You look quite pale. If you’re not feeling well, we can postpone the consultation to Monday—”

“I’m fine, sir,” Riza says as the heat rises up in her face. She raises a hand up to comb through her hair and smooth it down. “I’d like to get started on revision soon, anyway, if that’s okay with you.” With a shrug, Armstrong leads her to one of the department’s consultation rooms and invites her to sit down.

“You see, Miss Hawkeye, there is nothing to critique because there is precisely nothing,” Armstrong tells her after they’ve taken their seats, his moustache drooping to let her know that he was frowning. “Do you know why I gave this assignment?”

“No, sir.”

“I gave this assignment because many in the class, such as yourself, are seniors. Would it be incorrect to assume that you’ve had sufficient exposure to all manners of form and style?”

Riza’s blushing from her ears to her chest, her stomach curling all the way into her spine. “No, sir,” she says.

“Exactly. Don’t worry, you’re not the only one having trouble with this assignment. A lot have come to see me after hearing the workshop comments, and I tell them the same thing that I’ll tell you now—you have to open yourself up. No concept is too much as long as the execution is right, correct?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

By that point, Armstrong had a handkerchief out and was using it to wipe his glasses. “Get some rest, Miss Hawkeye. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

 

 

“Where have you beeeeeen?” Rebecca whines, engulfing Riza with a hug as soon as she heard Riza open the door. Riza’s left speechless, her bag and coat left hanging awkwardly on her body as Rebecca continues to squeeze her tight.

“Hey,” is all she manages to say before Rebecca starts talking again, her voice hoarse from all the drinking.

“You walked out on us last night! I don’t wanna say like you were _possessed_ , but, like—Jean even tried calling you but said you were already gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Riza apologises. She puts down her things and joins Rebecca in the living room, using those few seconds to figure out what she wants to say next. “I didn’t wanna make you worry or anything. I spent the night over at Jean’s.”

Rebecca only stares at her for a good few moments before a big smile takes over her face. “You fucking slut had a dick appointment?”

Riza can’t help it; she bursts out laughing, hugging the throw pillow sorely close to her chest. “With Roy fucking Mustang, of all people,” she tells her.

“This total Leo season energy…” Rebecca mutters. “So I’m guessing he apologised for all that first meeting bullshit?”

“And then some. He’s just… awkward, I think.”

“How is he?” Rebecca demands. “Give. Me. Deets.”

“Nothing much happened,” Riza recalls with a slight pout. “We just slept together. Literally. But— _Ughhhh_.” She groans into the pillow. “I’m so sorry I made you worry. Like, maybe I _was_ possessed?”

“By a dick,” Rebecca comments drily. “Like I was in second year.”

“ _Oh my god_.”

“Nooooo, don’t be embarrassed!” Rebecca says with a laugh, which eventually settles down when she sees that Riza continues to look unsettled. “Okay, what’s bothering you, Riz?”

With a deep sigh, Riza massages her temples and drags out each word as her eyes slip shut: “I don’t want to make this a thing.” Then, as guilt washes over her, she quickly adds, “Sorry, I just wanna go back to sleep or something.”

“I know you got a lot on your plate, hon,” Rebecca tells her in a much quieter tone, “so… you know, you gotta pick the options that work for you and don’t, like, feel pressured by anyone ‘cause you’re literally better than all of them.”

At that, Riza lets out a snort. “I’m a person, too, you know,” she teases.

 

***

 

It’s lunch time when Riza finds Breda at the library, his books all laid out on the study table while Jean and Falman were hunched over their laptops. “Hey,” she says as she sets her bag down on the empty table. “Busy week?”

“Pretty much,” Breda sighs with a slight yawn and a rub of his hand on his face. “Plus my LSAT date’s coming up.”

“Shit,” Riza sympathises. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Hawkeye. What about you?”

“Same old. I’m about to start on a paper for Ishvalan lit,” she answers. She digs her readings and a notebook out of her bag and places them in front of her. “Sorry, change of topic, Heymans, but can I ask you something?”

Without looking up at Riza from his notes, Breda replies, “Shoot.”

“Say you do something with someone, how would you know if it’s mutual or reciprocated? Just, like, interaction between two people,” Riza asks slowly, not expecting Breda to groan at her last words.

“Way to preempt my oral exam on Ricoeur,” Breda grouses before going back to his notes.

 

 

By the time Riza’s pushed the thought out of her mind, that’s when Roy Mustang appears before her like a mirage, ordering a Quarter Pounder meal with large fries.

“For take out,” Roy says. God, his face is a mess and his hair is sticking up from all sides.

“Coming right up,” Riza says, less energetic than she—or her manager—would have liked to hear.

“How are you doing?” Roy asks.

“Sir, you’re holding up the line,” Riza reminds him. Blushing, Roy moves to the side as he waits for his order, while Riza starts getting the rest of the orders. She only lets out a sigh once she’s had her back turned in order to put nuggets in the fryer and nab a couple of burgers from the warming tray.

It takes a while for her to get back to him, only doing so to put his order into a bag for him. “I’m fine, by the way,” she adds. “Thank you.”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Roy ventures.

Riza bites her lip. She’s not alone; Ed’s on the shift as well as Kain, who could probably handle the kitchen while Ed covers for her at the register. “I—Yeah, okay. I’ll be with you in a moment.” She rushes to the back and taps Ed on the shoulder. “Can you cover for me for, like, five minutes?”

Ed stares at her in surprise, the one earbud he had on falling out of his ear, before craning his head to see the people standing by the registers. “You got a date or something?” he asks.

“Personal drama,” Riza amends. “I promise I won’t take long.”

Shrugging, Ed just goes, “Whatever, Riza, take as long as you need.”

That gets Riza’s mouth curling into a smile. “You’re not the manager, kid,” she teases, but thanks him anyway before rushing out the back door. She has to go around the building to meet him by the side where all the trashcans are.

He’s already smoking, the plastic bag of food slung around his wrist as he lifts up the cigarette back to his mouth. He’s also busy checking his phone, the screen lighting his face in a blue tint.

“Adviser just emailed saying she’ll be late,” Roy says by way of greeting.

“You have time to eat, then,” Riza points out. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I know you’re busy, with thesis and your job and other school work, but…” Roy squirms a bit, sheepishly offering his pack of cigarettes for Riza, which she accepts. “I swear, my habit’s gone worse since I met Havoc.”

Riza laughs before she lights it up. The first drag is always the worst, always makes her throat itch (Are these reds? God.). “He has that effect,” she says before clearing her throat. Tears prick her eyes at the feeling of something inside her throat scraping down the walls, but it dies down when she takes another drag. “Becky’s working on making him quit, don’t worry.”

“She has her work cut out for him,” he says with a nod of his head.

“I hate to be this person, but what were you saying before this?” Riza prompts.

“It’s nothing,” Roy says hurriedly. “I realised I sounded like a dumbass.”

“Try me.”

Now he’s blushing again, much harder this time with the tops of his cheeks an almost splotchy pink. “It’s just… you never called or texted,” he admits with a frown at his own words. “I guess I was expecting that you would.”

“Oh.” Without another word, Riza raises the cigarette to her lips, her gaze dropping to the ground.

“It’s fine,” he adds.

“No, it’s… I understand why you had that expectation,” Riza says slowly. She lifts her head back up to face him. “I really was busy, but even I know that’s a pretty flimsy excuse.” Maybe if she keeps quiet, he could hear the gears turning in her head as she figures out what to say, so she keeps on going. “I don’t know why I didn’t keep in touch. I guess I also wanted time to think about it and to… just get back to, like, regularly scheduled programming or something.”

For some reason, that makes Roy laugh. “Was it embarrassing? You don’t seem the type to fuck around. You’re a serious person.”

“Yeah, a bit,” Riza acknowledges with a wince. “And I just don’t wanna be so serious right now.”

“By not calling me,” Roy ventures, but it’s teasing now. “ _That’s_ serious.”

“Leave me alone,” Riza grumbles.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Roy tells her. And at that point, Riza can’t tell if everything’s been a joke or not, her own actions included. “Guess you gotta get back to work? I should get going, too.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I gotta make sure the kid hasn’t poisoned anyone yet or something.”

When Riza gets back, Ed hands over the registers to her without saying anything, only giving her a look of expectation. There weren’t any new customers in line after the previous rush, so the area by the registers fell fairly quiet.

“What?” Riza asks upon noticing the way Ed looked at her.

“Guy drama?”

Riza sighs, “I didn’t think it would come to this.”

“Hey, nothing ever does, so there’s not much of a point with being logical.”

“So I should just follow my heart?” Talking to Ed always makes her laugh.

Ed rolls his eyes. “If you wanna put it that way,” he deadpans. “But, yeah, maybe.”

 

 

Riza goes home to a sheepish and naked Jean handing her the keys to his apartment. He doesn’t fail at giving her a wink before he returns to Rebecca. The key has an absurd chain hanging from it, a puckered anus in the shape of a heart (it was a gift from Breda). With a sigh, she accepts the key and closes the door behind her, staring at the ugly thing all the way out of her apartment building.

When she goes to Jean’s place, Roy is there and is startled by Riza coming in unannounced, whatever he was typing halting to a stop as he looks up at her from his laptop screen. The light of the screen is reflected on his glasses, which he pushes up the bridge of his nose.

“Hey,” Riza says first. With that, she offers him a shy smile. “I got sexiled.”

“Do you wanna take the table?” Roy asks. He stands up to gather his things, but Riza stops him.

“I’ll be fine on the couch, thanks.”

“How about dinner?”

“I bought a sandwich.”

“Coffee?”

Riza ends up laughing as she places her things on the couch and digs out the sandwich from her bag along with her own laptop and a book for her thesis. “I’ll have if you have,” she answers. She sets up her laptop and perches it on the arm of the couch, her book on her lap.

He doesn’t get up, so they work in silence for a while. Riza goes through her book, yawning loudly at the dryness of mimesis without Breda’s smartass comments buffering it.

At her yawn, Roy gets up and starts making coffee. “Sugar? Milk?” he calls from the kitchen.

“Milk.” Riza watches his back from the couch, making space for him when he comes to her to sit down and to give her a mug. “Taking a break?”

“I have to get back to work soon,” Roy groans. “I hate math, but I have to figure out how this model works.”

“Can’t help, sorry.”

Roy smiles at her, teases, “I was hoping you’d surprise me by saying you’re secretly a math nerd or something.”

Riza shakes her head then takes a sip of her coffee. It’s milky, a bit light on the coffee, probably because it’s late at night, and as she stares at it, the realisation of Roy’s consideration hits her. “Hey, about earlier…” she begins. Roy cuts himself off mid-sip, but only looks at her. “I know I said a lot of things, but the thing is—The thing is, I’m not sure if I’m good enough for a relationship. Not that I want one right now anyway.”

Roy’s eyebrows furrow together on his face, not loosening up when he asks, “What do you mean?”

“You know, stuff like being busy and not texting. I focus a lot on work, I can’t help it.” There goes that Virgo quality again.

“That doesn’t mean you’re gonna be bad at a relationship,” he tells her. “There are people who don’t mind that sort of thing, people who get you. Besides, you’re very self-aware. I don’t think you’d have a problem when you want to have a relationship.”

He’s sitting openly on the couch, his right arm resting on the side where his mug is perched. The ankle of his left leg rests on his right knee, his left arm in a position to either stay there or drape across the back of the couch, his fingers grazing Riza’s shoulder.

For what seems like an exorbitant amount of time, Riza wants to lean into him and rest her head on his chest, fingers curling around the mug of coffee to warm her up.

“You get me,” she blurts out. “Or, like, you’re good at saying stuff I want to hear.”

Roy laughs at that. “I’m just saying what’s on my mind,” he amends.

Riza sets her things down, moving them from the couch to the floor, before she goes over to Roy’s side and sits on his lap. Her hands reach for his face, cupping it gently. “Is this okay?” she asks, her voice gone all breathless. The tiredness that had seeped into her body had dissipated, leaving only a constant thrum underneath her skin.

“I—” Roy splutters out, red-faced and gripping on his coffee, which Riza places on the windowsill.

“The kid at work told me I should follow my heart.”

“Smart kid.”

“Kinda reminds me of you,” Riza muses with a laugh. Roy laughs, too, but not for long as he leans forward to press his lips against Riza’s.

She kisses him back, runs her tongue over his bottom lip. On Roy’s lap like this, she’s as steady as she ever needs to be, but he cradles the back of her neck anyway, kissing deeper so he could trace her teeth with his tongue.

A lock of her hair gets stuck on her lipstick when she pulls away. Roy tucks it back behind her ear, murmuring, “We have work to do.”

“Later,” Riza insists, feeling light in the head. Maybe even a little dumb. At least she’s wide awake.

“We can continue this later,” Roy suggests, though his eyes are closed and he’s resting his forehead on Riza’s shoulder, his arms tight.

Riza gets off of Roy and starts fixing her hair, tying it into a ponytail. “Thanks,” she say after she clears his throat. “For the coffee.”

The grin Roy gives her is incredibly shit-eating. He lean back into the couch and runs his hand through his hair, drawling, “It was my pleasure.”

 

***

 

There’s a talk given by the department of political science on the everyday politics of the communities along the Amestrian-Drachman border. It’s where Riza finds herself spending a Friday evening, and not even for extra credit.

(“Is this supposed to be a date?” Riza asks Roy after he invited her.

“My friend’s giving the talk, so I thought I’d give myself incentive to go,” Roy answers simply. “You might like her.”

“Olivier Mira Armstrong, JD, PhD,” she reads aloud from the screen. “If she looks anything like her brother, I’m going to flip.”)

Falman joins her out of sheer interest when Riza brings it up at their shared ethics class. He meets her at the library, where they then walk to the lecture hall together. “Professor Armstrong is his _friend_?” he asks again.

“I don’t know the details,” Riza reminds him.

“Mustang seems like this incomprehensible entity,” Falman comments.

“I guess he comes off that way the more you know about him,” Riza notes, as if the facets of Roy’s life don’t come together into a cohesive whole. She has her arm slung over Falman’s as they walked but lets go as soon as she sees Roy standing by the registration table. “Hey,” she says to him. “Is it okay that my friend tagged along?”

“Yeah, it’s just gonna be a boring lecture anyway.” Roy extends his hand towards Falman while introducing himself. “Roy Mustang.”

“Vato Falman. I’m interested, actually. I was gonna ask Professor Armstrong later if she knows of opportunities at Briggs for research.”

“The campus up north? She teaches there every second semester, if I remember correctly. I’ll introduce you guys,” Roy offers.

Falman shoots Riza a grin. “Thanks. I owe you one,” he tells Roy before he goes inside the hall to find a seat near the front. Riza follows Roy, who seats himself towards the back by the doors.

“Olivier invited me for dinner,” Roy brings up. “Say you’ll come with. Falman, too, of course.”

“I don’t know…” It’s a mild comfort to have Falman there, so she sends him a text telling him about it. “If he goes, then sure,” she says finally. “If she’ll even have us, I mean.”

“Trust me, she only looks like a bitch,” Roy says with a slight laugh.

The talk starts then, with a host rattling off Olivier’s achievements (bachelors in political science from Central, juris doctor also from Central, masters and PhD in political science at the Briggs campus, currently a professor at Eastern Law and at the Briggs campus, among other things). By the time Olivier gets to the podium, she looks absolutely bored. However, Riza doesn’t miss the smoothness of her voice and the strict conviction of her tone, like silk-covered steel.

Riza ends up listening to the talk anyway, then asks Roy where dinner would be at when they exit the lecture hall and lounge around, waiting for Falman and Olivier.

“I can’t believe you,” Roy grumbles.

“What?”

“Look at you, being all moony-eyed. You have a crush on her!”

Riza sighs, “She’s very beautiful. Jealous?”

Roy scoffs. “Not at all. I was about to tell you to take a number. She has a girlfriend up in Briggs,” he remembers.

Falman comes out of the lecture hall with Olivier, bright excitement on his face as Olivier explains to him the works of the research group in Briggs’ political science department.

“There’s a collaboration going on with the history department,” Olivier continues. “Are you graduating this year?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Olivier diverts her attention for one moment to look for Roy, her lips curling into a smile when she sees him standing next to Riza. “New girlfriend?” she asks Roy.

“I see you met Falman,” Roy deflects.

“It’s rare someone wants to go to Briggs,” she explains, her gaze shifting from Roy to Falman. “I look forward to seeing you next year. Are you joining us for dinner? Not that Roy makes good company.”

Falman shares a look with Riza before agreeing. They begin walking to the parking lot for faculty.

“This is Riza, by the way. Professor Hawkeye’s daughter,” Roy introduces.

Riza shakes Olivier’s hand. It’s nice and smooth, with trimmed nails and a beautiful watch with a small face. “Nice to meet you,” she says.

“Likewise. Are you taking up chemistry as well?”

“Literature,” Riza corrects. “I’m taking a class under your brother.”

“Alex? How is the buffoon?”

“He’s… interesting,” Riza answers with a slight laugh. “Very eccentric style.”

“I’m sure of it,” Olivier tells her, smiling at her all the while, lips closed. “Roy didn’t answer me earlier. Are you dating?”

Riza has to stop herself from asking Roy, “Are we?” Instead, she answers, “Probably.”

“Oh? On your end or Roy’s?” Olivier has Riza fumbling for an answer and she laughs at that like she’s used to it.

Falman completely stops in his tracks, his mouth agape. He has the good sense not to say a thing, but upon seeing Olivier’s car—the sleek, black luxury car that Jean waxes poetic about—even Riza stops to gawk, while Roy gets in shotgun without so much as a blink of an eye.

“Where’s Solaris?” Roy asks.

“Didn’t I tell you it’s long-distance the entire first semester?” Olivier clicks her tongue as she drives out of the parking lot. “Why don’t you come visit us over the break?”

Roy laughs it off. “I’m broke, sorry,” he apologises, to which Olivier lets out a loud scoff.

“Bring Riza and I’ll consider paying.”

Roy turns his head to face Riza at the back. The blue, almost space-age line of light running through the interior of the car gives his wide grin a cool tinge. “How about it, Riz?” he asks.

“I’m scared you’ll freeze your balls off at Briggs,” Riza deadpans, making Falman and even Olivier bark out a laugh.

 

 

“I’m going to smoke outside, if you’ll excuse me,” Olivier announces once the dishes on their table have been cleared, getting up as she speaks.

“Me, too,” Roy says. He hands Olivier’s handbag over to her then follows her out to the porch where they immediately light up their cigarettes and fall into easy conversation.

“Wine?” Falman offers Riza.

“ _Please_.” Once her glass is filled, she takes a long sip with a smile. “Weird Friday night,” she comments. “Thanks for coming with me, Vato.”

“‘Course, Hawkeye.” Then, Falman shakes his head. “I still don’t get how they’re friends.”

Riza already has a mental note to ask Roy about it later, but, “I don’t know much about him, I just realised,” she admits quietly. “He’s great at giving advice, but it makes you wonder…”

“How he got there?” Falman supplies.

“Yeah,” Riza ends up mumbling, staring into the depths of her glass of Aerugonian wine. She shakes it off after a few moments of hesitation. “I’m just gonna ask him.”

Falman only nods and drinks more wine and then starts asking Riza about the assignment for their ethics class, so when Olivier comes back, she finds them arguing about what the will to power is supposed to mean, to which she cuts in with:

“The crucial thing to understand is not in how it can be manifested, but where the force to manifest it comes from, a desire to overcome. Should I order more wine?”

 

 

Roy’s mouth slides into hers as soon as they get to Riza’s apartment, the door closing shut with a final click that’s lost in the scramble to touch more skin. A moan slips out of Riza, feeling her knees quiver as Roy sucks on her bottom lip. She slings her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer to taste the wine on his tongue

“God,” Roy groans. He buries his face into the crook of her neck and stays there a while, catching his breath.

Riza’s giggling right into his ear. “Come on,” she says and leads them to her bedroom, his hands in hers.

He takes a while to look around, as if to take in the sight. There isn’t much to Riza’s room—just a mountain of books on the floor, really, aside from the bed—but he zooms in on— “Scented candles?”

“Becky gave them,” Riza explains as Roy smiles at her.

“Let’s light them,” Roy suggests. He takes the lighter out of his pocket and goes about lighting the two candles, filling the air with the scents of creamy vanilla bean and cooling lavender.

“Romantic,” she comments, bursting into giggles when he turns off the lights, leaving the candles to work their magic.

He comes back to her with a softer kiss, threading his fingers through her hair while she plays with the fabric of his shirt, melting into him. Once his shirt’s off, she takes the time to feel the tautness underneath his skin and the warmth emanating from him.

Her blouse is next, and Roy’s hands roam over her back to feel the hook of her bra and to unclasp it. He stops. Riza’s stomach churns as he runs his fingers over the tender skin, the tight and mottled skin. Quietly, she raises her own hands to her back and helps him take her bra off, letting it fall to the floor.

The way he undos her jeans and shimmies them down to her ankles can only be described as loving—he wanders down her thighs, mouth lightly pressing kisses to her hipbone.

She kicks her pants away and lets herself be laid down on the bed, her hair splaying around her on the pillow. Roy takes off the rest of his clothes and hovers over her, brushes her bangs away from her face. Maybe music should be playing, but there’s plenty going on in Riza’s head to offset that, like how the candlelight makes the back of Roy’s head glow and gives him a halo, how her hips squirm when he palms her through her panties and her legs fall open to give him, the angel on her bed, more.

His hands are trembling, his lips. She can feel him quiver when he kisses her, so she stops and makes him face her.

Wilting under her gaze, he admits, “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You won’t,” is all Riza says before she pulls him down, their lips ghosting each other. “I want you.”

At that, he kisses her in full force, fingers curling into the waistband of her panties to tug them away. She shivers at the bareness then wraps her legs around his waist. He’s hard against the inside of her thigh, the contact making his mouth fall open with a strangled moan.

In the drawer of Riza’s bedside table are condoms Rebecca slipped in once as a joke-slash-suggestion. She fishes them out and places them on top for Roy to reach while he brings his head down to her breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth.

Riza’s back arches up and she fists at his hair, groaning through her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He flicks her with his tongue then runs the flat of it against her skin, enough to make her sigh, “More…” A jolt runs through her spine and she can feel herself going slick, her knees weak.

Roy travels lower to the point where Riza can make out the muscles on his back, where she can see only the crown of his head but feel his mouth graze against her skin. Hands firmly on her hips, he pulls her closer to him and laps her up, one hand letting go to trace around her entrance.

A tentative finger slips into her, acting together with his tongue on her clit, and her grip on his hair tightens, almost pleading. With his other hand, he touches himself, his groans reverberating and going straight to her cunt.

Before she forgets herself, she blurts out, “How did you meet Olivier?”

That makes Roy stop and lift his head. Right away, Riza misses the pressure on her clit, so she wriggles her hips until he starts to use his thumb to rub circles on it. “Is _that_ who’s on your mind right now?” he asks drily.

Riza flushes and wants to say _You’re the only thing on my mind_ , but the words die down before her throat could so much as move. Instead, she answers, “Can’t I be curious?”

He raises a brow at her as if to ask, “Now?” with his thumb digging in. The pressure makes Riza’s knees want to close together, but Roy manages to keep them apart. Her hips move into his hand, riding it. “It’s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Later, then,” Riza manages to gasp out. An orgasm is building up deep in the pit of her stomach, curling and hot.

Roy has a teasing smile on his face before he comes back down. His tongue keeps flicking her as she comes, his mouth and cheeks glistening when he faces her with a cheeky grin. “Hand me those, will you?”

Rolling her eyes, Riza tosses a condom packet to him then lies her head back down and heaves a sigh. Her whole body is tingling, fingers numb, and she feels like laughing. After a few moments, Roy is over her, one of his hands on his cock to position it against her entrance and the other on the side of her shoulder to keep himself steady.

He slides in gently, eyes slipping shut. She pulls him down to her, coaxing his mouth open, feeling his pants against hers. He moves slowly inside her, till his breathing becomes erratic and he goes faster, hooks the back of her knee on his shoulder to thrust into her deeper.

“ _God_ ,” Riza groans. Her hair is falling back into her face. He takes it in his hand and _tugs_ , driving into her. She digs her nails into his back in response, practically clawing. As he slides out of her, his cock brushes against her clit. A growl slips out of her in frustration, an orgasm building again inside.

Roy comes without so much as a warning. Riza can feel it—a sudden burst of heat inside of her, Roy’s thrusts slowing to a stop. He looks so blissful and beautiful, a lazy, goofy smile on his face as usual, even as he’s pulling out and tossing the condom towards the trash can by her study desk.

Riza touches herself, chasing her orgasm. She presses on her clit, plays with her nipple. Roy can only watch with his mouth agape, face red all the way up to the tips of his ears. When she comes, she feels made of static, kissing Roy with such force that he can’t hide his sound of surprise. She kisses him like she’s hungry, fingers laced behind his neck, his top lip between her own lips.

As the kisses die down, as Riza pulls away because she needs to breathe, they find themselves lying so much more comfortably on the bed, or as much as they can be given Riza’s bed is a single. It’s nothing like Roy’s double, but Riza doesn’t mind being held so closely to him to keep herself from falling to the floor.

After another lazy kiss, Roy says, “She was my polisci thesis adviser back when she was teaching at West.” His voice softens as he goes on, to the point of murmuring and Riza had to strain some to hear him.

“She could tell I wasn’t happy and kept having to make me snap out of it. She was already with her girlfriend at the time, so she introduced me to her—Solaris is a psychiatrist and I was under her care for a while, but since she had to keep coming down from Briggs, I had to learn how to deal with things myself. And whether Liv intended to or not, we became friends long after I handed in my work.”

It’s an abridged version. Riza knows it and Roy knows that Riza knows it. That being said, it seems enough. It draws a nod out of Riza, and she says, in an equally soft voice, “I appreciate you telling me.”

He leans in to press his lips on her forehead, lingering there with his hand in her hair. She closes her eyes and wraps her arms around him, too, so he doesn’t fall.


	3. be with you alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this [tweet](https://twitter.com/urfavgetspegged/status/1085766281574240257)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> penultimate chapter!!! i'm sorry that… this chapter is a lot… i wrote it pretty quickly but it was also a Struggle™
> 
> in other news, the loveliest squidmango made some rad af [art](https://squidmangoes.tumblr.com/post/182971435573/ok-look-i-know-this-high-key-looks-like-im-trying) (with my fave scene!!!) so please give them lots of love ♡
> 
>  
> 
> chapter title: tears for fears - head over heels/broken

Riza’s back was turned to Roy as she shifted in her sleep. A light touch tracing her back wakes her up and makes her stomach churn all over again, heat rising up in her throat and making it tight. She can feel her heartbeat in her ears as Roy examines the mapping of scars along her back, _mesmerised_ , almost.

“Sorry,” Riza says, her voice quiet. The hand on her back stops then rests on her shoulder, his mouth following with a kiss. “It was an accident, a gas leak at home. I was cooking for my mom and the whole thing exploded.” Her shirt caught fire, the smell of burning fabric and skin making her scream before the pain kicked in.

“Where was…?”

“He was away at a conference. Came home just in time to pay the bill and get me discharged,” Riza says drily. She reaches for Roy’s hand on her shoulder, lacing their fingers together. “But my mom didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry,” Roy replies.

“She was already sick, but going through that must’ve been… She was alone, and I didn’t get to say good bye. And yet, my dad—He still insisted that work was more important than my dying mother.”

Roy stays silent, only squeezing Riza’s hand tighter. Riza cried so much then, but still her throat is sticky, her eyes pricking with tears. She’s worried that if she turns around to face Roy, she’d start crying, but he’s already lifting their twined hands up to her face like he knows.

 

 

“ _Okay, inhale… Exhale… Good, now draw your right leg back in and shift yourself forward so your shoulders are in line with your wrists. You have the option to go through your chaturangas or to just meet me at downward-facing dog, then we’ll repeat the sequence for the left leg_ ,” comes the voice of the yoga instructor from an online video. They meet Rebecca in the living room as she practises her vinyasa, extending into a low plank before lowering herself to the mat. With a sigh, knees tucked in and held up above the mat, she lands herself into an upside-down V, pushing on her heels.

“You wanna hop in?” Rebecca asks, the crown of her head facing the hallway where they’re standing.

“No, thank you,” Roy answers politely.“Havoc and I are gymming later.”

Without breaking her stance, she lifts her left leg up high then shifts forward into a three-legged dog so she can lift her head to face them. “Shit, that question was for Riz. What are you doing here?”

(The music from Rebecca’s yoga instruction video comes first, muffled by the door, but Riza can make it out if she listens carefully. “Becky’s home,” she says.

“I thought she was downtown for that exhibit?” Roy whispers. Then: “Should we wait for her to leave?”

“Oh my god, no. She’ll _freak_ if she finds out you were here and didn’t say hi.”)

“Homework,” Roy deadpans.

Despite Rebecca being practically upside-down in a vertical split, she fucking laughs. “Good one, Roy. It’s nice that one of you has a sense of humour. Can you turn the video off for me, please?”

“Shouldn’t you be meditating?” Riza asks drily while Roy hits pause on Rebecca’s laptop, the room suddenly filled with silence.

“Hon, I’m totally focused on the here and now,” Rebecca answers before she flows back into her downward-facing dog. “Seriously, Riza, I’m really happy for you, and my flow right now is so good. Join me for my shavasana, please.”

“I—” Riza shares a look with Roy, who only shrugs out of sheer amusement. “Okay.”

They wait for her to hop between her legs and sit down before mimicking her position. “Okay, so just go slowly down to the floor, _feel_ your spine rolling downwards, bit by bit,” Rebecca instructs, her voice gone all smooth, as she does precisely that. “Then lay your hands on either side, palms facing the sky for energy. Keep your feet shoulder-width apart and close your eyes. Focus on your breathing.”

Eyes closed, Riza can feel the edge of Roy’s fingertips near hers. She expected him to laugh, but hearing his breathing even out reassures her, giving her a happiness she can feel in her palms.

Before Riza could totally fall back asleep, Rebecca breaks the silence and asks them to bring the feeling back to their extremities before sitting up and opening their eyes.

“That was interesting,” Roy quips.

Rebecca stretches her arms, holds her elbow steady as she reaches for her back. “Were you relaxed?” she asks, smiling when Roy yawns as an answer and Riza smiles back at her. “That settles it. I’m dragging Riz with me. It’s gonna make her all flexible, Roy, you’re gonna _love_ it. So who wants breakfast?”

 

***

 

For the first time that semester, the study group’s complete—Rebecca, Roy, and now Kain included. Rebecca’s frowning as she draws on her tablet, interrupting Jean now and then to ask about the details, as it was a commission for his thesis. Kain has his head bent over Roy’s laptop, trying to make sense of the mathematical model on Roy’s laptop.

“Do you get this? I had to derive this”—Roy points at something on the screen—“law of thermodynamics to a Markovian stochastic process.”

“No…” Kain says. “I’m just a sophomore, sorry. We only started doing vector analysis.”

“Engineering?”

“Yeah. Electronics and communications.”

“I’m jealous.” Glumly, Roy returns to work. Kain does, too, his textbook open flat on the table as he solves problems in his notebook.

Riza, who’s sitting on Roy’s other side, tries to push Roy off of her when he leans on her shoulder and pretends to sleep. “ _Roy_ ,” she chides.

“I don’t wanna do work,” Roy grouses, not moving from his spot. “Havoc, let’s go to the gym.”

“Sorry, bro. Gotta get all this paperwork done for the suppliers,” Jean replies without bothering to look at him. “Becks, how about making the logo on that shirt a bit bigger? Yeah, like that.”

“Breda—”

“I’m reading Derrida right now and need all my shit together,” Breda interrupts before Roy can say anything further. With a click of his tongue, Breda dives back into his readings.

By that point, Riza’s giggling, smoothing down Roy’s hair. “I told you everyone’s busy,” she chides him again with a kiss to the crown of his head.

“What kind of study group is this?” Roy demands, his voice kept low so it wouldn’t disturb anyone further.

“Do your work, Roy,” Riza says finally as she flips a page of her book. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Oh, you will?” Roy asks, smiling smugly up at her. “How?”

Riza’s face is heating up, saved by Rebecca, who goes, “Okay, we get it, you two fuck!”

 

***

 

**when it rains**

Riza Hawkeye, CW124 Sec. B  


_My feelings are feral and beg to be fed  
_ _by a pressing weight, until full, until bursting and sick_

_The clock ticks_ welcome home _, the time says_ don’t rush  
_Take it slow, lay down your arms_

_And let me lie in them, restless and heedless, defenceless  
_ _You know what it’s like to come home_

_To that painting, the one with the  
_ _lone traveller_

_on a bridge between two mountains  
_ _It’s raining, so stay_

_Say yes, acquiesce  
_ _accept this hunger, the lone traveller_

_falling into a ravine when it rains  
_ _Hence: these hands_

_Hence: what we could learn when it’s just us  
_ _A depthless lake_

 

***

 

“Hey, kid.”

“‘Sup, lil’ bitch.”

Roy frowns at that then tilts his head ever so slightly to look down at Ed. “I’m not taking that from a kid who asked his girlfriend to prom a semester early,” he says finally along with his breakfast order of a sausage McGriddle.

“Can’t believe Riza told you,” Ed grumbles as he punches the order in the register.

“Sorry, Edward,” Riza apologises with a sly smile as she places Roy’s order on a tray and pushes it towards him. “I thought it was cute.”

“I asked Winry out first then she was like where, and I couldn’t think of anything so I said prom,” Ed explains, scowling at Roy. “Wipe that smirk off your face.”

“She must really like you if she played along with that,” Roy quips. He meets Riza’s eyes and flashes her a grin, which she laughs at despite herself. “Young love.”

 

 

“There’s a streamlined research track in Central, if you’re interested,” Roy mentions to Ed as he passes over a brochure to him. Despite Izumi, the branch manager, not being present, Riza wouldn’t let Roy anywhere near the employees’ room in the back, so he waited by the back door for them when their shift ended.

Ed gave up a pretence of disinterest once he found out about Roy’s work in the university, and he grins a bit as he flips through the brochure. “Al and I can take the scholarship exam, when it comes down to it,” he says. “Thanks, lil’ bitch.”

Riza tugs on Roy’s wrist before taking his hand in hers. “Good luck, Edward,” she tells him. “See you next week?”

“Yeah, for sure. See ya, Riza.” With Ed’s red hoodie slung over his shoulder, he bids Roy and Riza bye and walks off in the opposite direction. His prosthetic leg is peeking from underneath his shorts, tapering off into a pair of red, worn-down sneakers.

Roy watches Ed walk, face expressionless till he ends up smiling. “He’s getting that scholarship.”

“That was nice of you,” Riza tells him as they begin walking their own way. “You’re like everyone’s big brother.”

“Thank god you didn’t say father,” Roy teases. “By the way, I have a surprise waiting at home.”

“What is it?” Riza asks. She stuffs her free hand into the pocket of her coat and tightens her hold on Roy. It’s cold, finally, and Roy has a coat over his West City pullover and a scarf wrapped around his neck.

“You’ll just have to see.”

 

 

“A strap-on.”

“Liv gave it to me as a joke once.” Roy had it hiding under his bed, in a white box that fit it just so. For how long, exactly, only he knows.

“She had suggestions, didn’t she?” Riza quips. She turns the thing over in her hands, feeling the weight of it, the heft, the ridgesof nerves on the black plastic dick. The leather harnesses seem okay, soft and supple to the touch.

Something about holding it compels her. Roy has to take it out of her hands and place it on the dining-slash-study table so he could kiss her, undoing the bun Riza’s hair was in for work. The clips he takes out as well, her bangs falling in front of her face with weird little crimps. Roy kisses her forehead then the bridge of her nose, asking, “So…?”

“Yes,” Riza breathes out. She feels excited and flushed, eager to touch. “It’s gonna hurt a bit. Are you sure?”

“I’m trusting you with my ass,” he tells her before kissing her grin off her face with a grin of his own. He leads her to his room and lets her strip him of his clothes, her mouth leaving trails of kisses along his collarbone and down his shoulders.

The show of it all makes him laugh, and his cheeks are stained a deep pink. He fumbles with the buttons of the bodice on Riza’s dress till Riza gently pushes him away and takes it off herself, the light fabric now a shimmering pool around her feet. Stepping out of them, she guides Roy to the bed with her hands on his chest.

“Just relax,” Riza sighs. Once he’s on the bed, she removes her underwear and gets the things from the bedside table, sitting herself between Roy’s legs. She never paid attention to the hair on Roy’s body, but seeing it now, from his lower abdomen to the base of his dick, seeing it go further down his thighs, gathering around his entrance—Riza finds herself getting lost again in the pull.

Roy nudges her a bit with his calf, jolting her out of her trance. She tucks her hair behind her ear then lowers her head down to play with the tip of Roy’s cock, sucking on it. Their eyes meet then, and Riza can feel herself smiling even with a cock in her mouth, her eyes turning up. Roy smiles back and covers her hand with his, their fingers lacing together over his hipbone.

Riza goes deeper, pulls out, licks her lips, goes back in, hair cascading past her shoulders. Roy lets out a noise, his entire body going tense. It’s then that Riza pulls away with more finality and coats her fingers with lube.

“Ready?” Riza asks.

“Ready.” As Riza enters him with a finger, his face pinches up, resisting. Riza kisses his knee and coos at him:

“You’re doing so well, Roy.” Once she’s all the way in to her knuckle, she stops and waits for him to get used to it. With her free hand, she strokes his dick, slow and steady up and down the shaft. As Roy loosens up, she fucks him with her finger. She enjoys hearing him whine, how he keens when she slips in another finger.

Before she adds a third, she asks Roy to get on his knees. She kisses his bare back, smiling at the way his muscles jump and bunch up at her touch. “That’s it,” she praises him. With three fingers in, she goes excruciatingly slow.

Roy’s fingers dig into the sheets. His dick is leaking at the tip, which Riza takes into her hand, her thumb spreading that bead of precome around the head and making him groan and tremble. She’s wet, too, her fingers tingling, and she wants more.

“I’m gonna go put it on,” she declares with another kiss to the small of his back as she slides out of him wetly. “Be good for me, Roy.”

He only keens, chasing her fingers so he’s grinding against the air. The sight of it could be funny, but Riza busies herself with putting the harness on and securing the straps around her hips and the tops of her thighs. The base of the dildo sits heavy on her pelvis, and Riza leans back on her heels to stroke herself as if the dick’s really hers.

“Roy,” she says, “come here.” She waits for Roy to move closer to the foot of the bed, where she is, and presents herself to him, cock and all.

He swallows heavily and licks his lips before he lowers his head and takes the dildo in his mouth. Riza lets out a moan and tangles her fingers in his hair, petting him. A bead of his saliva rolls down the shaft, which he spreads around with his hand till it’s good and shiny. Pressing on his head a bit, she urges him to go deeper with his mouth. He chokes but doesn’t stop, only staying further up the shaft.

“Ready?” she asks. He nods and gets back on his knees, ass facing towards her.

She coats her hand with lube and strokes herself. Then, She gets up on her knees and positions herself behind him. He’d never been so silent before that Riza has to wrap her hand around his dick and ask, “Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” Roy manages to say, the words coming out in a grunt. He turns his head back slightly to face her, his hair covering his face, which had a good sheen of sweat to it. “Are you doing it, Riz?”

“Yes,” she answers. She keeps one hand on the base of his spine, keeping him open as she traces the tip of the dildo along his entrance. Holding her breath, she pushes the tip in.

“ _Oh my fucking god_ ,” Roy curses. “Shit, fuck, shit—”

Riza stills. Only the head of her cock has made it in him, but she feels too apprehensive to continue—at least until Roy tries to push back into her, begging for more. She goes in slowly once more, pausing for breaths every step of the way till she’s in all the way to the hilt.

Roy takes a deep breath. It shudders.

Eventually, he pleads, “Keep going.”

She digs her fingers into his hips, nails leaving marks on his skin as she pulls out and inches back in. Each time, he lets out a groan. Then, a slight whimper when she figures out a rhythm and starts to go faster. He almost recoils as soon as she touches his cock. The friction of her hand on his cock is practically non-existent, a delicious slide that makes him moan so loudly.

“Riza—” He comes, spilling all over her fingers, staining the sheets. He writhes into the bed, buries his head into the pillows, and groans. It’s rough and throaty. Riza doesn’t stop fucking him just yet; she rides him out until his whole body gives in and goes limp. He collapses as soon as she pulls out of him, and she just sits back, her heartbeat roaring in her ears.

When she takes off the harness, she feels a stickiness in her thighs. Her legs feel gelatinous, her heart all aflutter. Roy turns himself so he’s on his back with his chest heaving.

“Come here, Riza,” he says. He reaches for her hands and gets her to sit on his face, her whole body heating up as he licks into her, his nose pressed against her pubic hair. He just breathes her in, eyes closed.

All she can do is tug on his hair. Grind her hips onto his tongue, his mouth. Suck on her come-stained fingers. He wraps his arms around her thighs and flicks at her clit with his tongue till she’s shivering.

Her orgasm is imminent in her gut. When her fingers go numb, she begs, “Roy, _please_ ,” and she comes with his tongue on her clit and a squeal.

But Roy doesn’t let her go. He eats her up until she’s coming again, and by then she’s too high-strung that she has to pull him back by the hair. “I’m getting off now,” she tells him once her body’s had a chance to calm down.

“Okay.” He lets her go, laughing when she stumbles out of the bed like a newborn fawn. “By the way, there’s an envelope on my study desk. Can you bring it here?”

On the desk is a sturdy cream-coloured envelope with _Mr. Roy Mustang_ in gold script. “This one?” Riza asks.

“Yeah,” Roy answers as he sits up, inviting Riza to join him on the bed, but kicking the sheets out from under him first so they lay as a messy, dirty pile on the floor. When Riza sits down, he explains, “It’s an invitation to a wedding. My best friend Maes is getting married next month.”

“Congratulations,” Riza tells him, not sure if she should be saying anything else. “So you’re gonna be out for a weekend?”

“Uhm… I was kinda hoping you’d come with me,” Roy says slowly as he lets her read the contents of the envelope. “It’s in Central.”

“Are you sure? But it seems kinda late to…” To RSVP? To save up money for a dress? “Roy, it’s just a very important day and I don’t, you know, want to make things awkward for you.”

“You won’t,” Roy reassures her. He takes the invitation from her and kisses her knuckles, her palm. “Trust me, Riza. Please. I want you to be there with me.”

“I—” Riza ends up nodding her yes. She lets Roy kiss her, melting into the hand he has cupping her cheek. “I’ve never been to Central,” she admits with a shy smile.

“No?” Riza shakes her head. “I hope you like it. I’ll bring you to this restaurant my aunt and I used to go to all the time when I was a kid,” Roy tells her. “It’s Xingese, the best in the whole of Amestris.”

“Aunt?” After blurting that out, she winces inwardly. “Sorry, that just came out.”

Roy lets out a small laugh and caresses her shoulder. “She’s the one who raised me,” he explains. “My parents died when I was a kid from a plane crash. They were flying to Xing for a funeral, and the desert just… swallowed them, I guess.”

“I’m really sorry,” Riza tells him.

“Don’t be. I just had one of the best orgasms of my life,” Roy tells her with a grin and leans forward to kiss her. “I’m happy. And my aunt is the most incredible woman. I know she’d love to meet you.”

 _I’m happy_. “I’d love to meet her, too,” Riza tells him with a shy smile of her own, kissing him till she can’t breathe. “Shower?”

“Want me to join?”

 

***

 

Riza barrels into Rebecca’s room, catching her in the middle of working on a shirt design for Havoc’s General Store. “Can I borrow some of your makeup this weekend?” Riza asks, her fingers running through her hair in a frenzy.

Rebecca startles, asking, “What for?”

“I’m going to a wedding in Central.”

“Oh my god. Who’s?”

“Roy’s friend’s. I don’t even have anything to wear,” Riza groans. In response, Rebecca gets off the bed and opens her closet, filtering through her dresses with ease.

The dresses she eventually picks out are laid on the bed: a white off-shoulder dress with a pencil skirt, a knee-length bodycon red dress with long sleeves. “Here, just borrow these,” Rebecca tells her. “I don’t know the dress code, but I’ve been alternating these to every Catalina-related wedding since forever.”

Riza sighs and picks up the red dress, laying it against her body. “Why did he do this, he _knows_ I don’t have money to get a dress, let alone one on such short notice—”

“Whoa, Riz, slow down, you’re not this high and bothered just ‘cause you don’t have a dress,” Rebecca chides her. She takes the dress from Riza and lays it on her study chair along with the other one. “Come on, sit down, tell me what’s wrong.”

“This is _serious_. You don’t invite just anyone to be your plus one to a wedding.”

“ _I_ have, and it’s really no big deal.”

“He’s best man.”

“Oh, shit,” Rebecca says, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’.

“Yeah,” Riza grumbles. “I’m dating someone _that age_.”

“Old?”

“More like settling age, the middle class illusion.”

“Riza—”

“I know I sound crazy, but just—Just let me process this, okay? Seeing his best friend get married is definitely going to make him think about _his_ own marriage.”

At that, Rebecca has to let out a sigh and slaps her forehead before staring her roommate down to say, “ _Riza_ , listen to me, you’re _both_ students. There is no way marriage is on Roy’s mind right now.”

“He said he’s—” Riza cuts herself off then shakes her head violently, her own embarrassment getting the better of her. “You’re right, Becks. I’m just being irrational.”

“What did he even say, Riz?”

“That he’s happy… That he wants me to meet the woman who raised him,” Riza recounts for her. She’s managed to push it out of her mind the weeks leading up to this, up until Roy sends her a copy of the train ticket and hotel reservation to her e-mail. “Like I said, I’m being irrational.”

“You’re just worrying that you’re going too fast, that’s all,” Rebecca tells her, her voice gone calm and soothing as she takes Riza’s hands in hers. “Of _course_ he’s happy, hon. Like, I know how he feels. I was a _wreck_ before we became roommates. I’m so happy I met you, too.”

“Stop that!” Riza squeals before she buries Rebecca in a hug. Voice muffled against Rebecca’s sweater, she asks, “Oh god, what do I wear when I meet her?”

Rebecca laughs right into Riza’s ear, her hand rubbing circles on Riza’s back. “Don’t you worry about a thing, hon. I got you covered.”

 

***

 

Roy picks Riza up at her apartment at five in the morning. He’s dressed in smart casual, glasses on, clean shoes, and he flushes under Riza’s once-over. So he clears his throat and says, “You look lovely.”

“Thanks, and you said we’re going for dimsum with your family when we get there,” Riza tells him. Hence, the early train and the dress, turtleneck and moss green with her arms left bare, a jacket on her shoulders. With her hand on her luggage, she loops the other around Roy’s arm, teasing him, “You clean up nice.”

At that, Roy lets out a snort. “Nervous?”

“Of course.”

“You’ll be fine,” he reassures her. “I’m willing to bet on it.”

The train is mostly empty when they board it. As soon as they put away their things and settle down on their seats, Roy rests his head on Riza’s shoulder, and Riza cradles him like that, their hands laced together on the armrest. Asleep, he looks serene, his eyelashes just brushing the tops of his cheekbones. Riza can’t resist tracing them with her finger—the slope of his nose, the curve of his cupid’s bow.

He twitches, his lashes fluttering and his mouth parting slightly, but he remains stubbornly asleep and doesn’t wake up until Riza coaxes him to, the train slowing to a stop at Central station.

The sun beats down into the train, warmth bleeding out on the platform. Riza takes off her jacket and slings it over her arm as Roy looks for his sister.

“There’s Vanessa,” Roy says as he approaches a girl in her teens. “Hey, sis.”

“Roy!” Vanessa squeals as she pulls Roy into a hug. “Fuck you, bitch! It’s been so long! And you _did_ bring Riza. Hi!”

“Hi,” Riza greets with a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“You’re so pretty! And I _love_ your dress,” Vanessa coos. “Anyway, Mom’s already at the restaurant, so we should go. I’m _starving_.”

 

 

The Xingese restaurant, Yum Cha, is decadent, even for Central—high ceiling and pristine white tablecloths, saucers resting on top of wide decorative plates lined with gold. It’s also noisy, filled with chatter that brings the whole place to life. Roy’s aunt is seated in one of the smaller tables, a pot of tea on the turntable.

“You got a lot of nerve coming back to Central for a friend but not for your family,” she tells Roy, voice gruff, but she’s smiling.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or so I’ve heard,” Roy argues with an equally big smile of his own. He leans down to kiss her on the cheek. “It’s good to see you, Mom. This is Riza Hawkeye.”

“Pleasure,” Riza says as she debates on what to do next and eventually settles on kissing her on the cheek, like Roy did.

“Chris Mustang. I’m sorry my boy’s been a handful.”

“Just half,” Riza amends with a laugh, taking her seat between Roy and Vanessa. Roy spins the turntable and pours tea for himself and for Riza.

“His heart is in the right place, really,” Chris adds. “Roy-boy, why don’t you order?”

“Of course.” Then, Roy asks Riza, “Is there anything you’d like to try?”

Riza shakes her head. “I’ll leave it to you,” she answers, which makes Roy let out a nervous laugh before he calls for a waiter and starts ordering… in Xingese.

“Show-off,” Vanessa grumbles. “He learned it by himself, you know.”

“He wants to go to Xing and meet his family there,” Chris supplies. “Told him it’d be tough if he can’t speak a lick of the language. I figured he’d rise to the challenge.”

“I’m impressed,” Riza tells Roy.

“It’s just a pipe dream,” Roy confesses, “but learning Xingese has its uses.” Like the first round of dimsum he orders: plump shrimp in a crystal dumpling wrap, crisp cubes of turnip cake tossed in spicy aromatics, flat sheets of rice wrapped around thinly sliced barbecued pork.

Vanessa hums in appreciation as she picks up a shrimp dumpling and dips it in some soy sauce and chili. “I tried so he could have someone he can practise with at home, but I just can’t,” she tells Riza. “I bet you can, though. Roy said you’re really smart.”

“Not with Xingese, no,” Riza says. “Some other time, maybe. I’m busy with my undergrad research.”

“What’s it about?” Chris asks.

“The question of mimesis in Amestrian nationalist literature,” Riza responds, as if on autopilot. Realising she has to expound, she goes, “It’s, uhm… There’s a trend in these works to, like, address a community in the familiar, so I wondered about the mode of representation these authors are following.”

“Cool,” Vanessa says with her mouth full. “Cool.”

Chris laughs. It booms but is lost in the din of the restaurant. “Eat up, my darling, but save room for dessert.”

 

 

The hotel Maes booked for them is charming despite the modern interior, warm lights on and a rather thick curtain that blocks out most of the sun.

Leaving her luggage and shoes by the door, Riza lies down on the bed, belly side down, and sighs, “Can we just stay in today?”

Roy laughs as he lies down on the other side. “You shouldn’t have eaten so many of those buns,” he scolds with a silly smile on.

“Shouldn’t have over-ordered,” she grouses back at him, “ _Roy-boy_.” She moves closer to Roy on the bed and tells him, “I like your family.”

“They like you, too.”

“I mean it. I haven’t had a family in so long, so that was… really nice,” Riza says, her voice quiet. “I got emancipation from my dad after the fire.”

“Who’s been taking care of you since?” Roy asks.

“My maternal grandfather sends me money for stuff like tuition, but I chose not to live with him. He’s a general in Eastern Command, and that wasn’t a life I could see myself living.”

Roy nods, eyes slipping shut as Riza plays with his hair, threading the soft locks through her fingers. He reaches out an arm to wrap around her waist, burying his face in her chest. “You’ve had it hard,” he murmurs. She just hums. “You have a family here, Riza.”

She can’t say anything to that without revealing her worst thoughts, so instead she kisses the crown of Roy’s head and breathes him in.

Roy speaks up again after a while of silence to remind her about leaving early the next day for wedding preparations. “Will you be okay? Van’s picking you up for breakfast tomorrow, then I’ll meet you at the wedding.”

“Busy man,” Riza teases. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl.” Despite her hold on Roy, she just knows he’s rolling his eyes.

“I’m gonna miss you. I just wanted to be with you alone.”

 

 

“Here you are,” Vanessa announces as she pulls up into the driveway of a pavilion that leads into a huge, sprawling garden.

“Thanks, Van,” Riza says. “For the makeover, too.”

“It’s no problem, Riz. You look great. Besides, I always wanted a big sister,” Vanessa tells her.

“Bet a real older sister wouldn’t have to rely on you for eyeshadow,” Riza teases. “Sorry I can’t spend more time with you.”

Vanessa dismisses that with a wave of her hand. “No biggie, sis. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.” After a kiss to Riza’s cheek, she drives off, leaving Riza to duck the white canopies covering the entrance to the pavilion.

Inside, everything is snow white, fat bunches of flowers lining the aisle and taller bouquets around the sides. Riza takes a seat on a stark-white chair somewhere in the middle and catches Roy in the front, in a crisp white suit with a sky blue tie and his hair pushed back, and that has Riza taken aback, speechless.

 _You look good_ , he mouths to her, thumbs up for good effect.

 _You, too_ , she mouths back. They settle down when the music starts to play, Roy’s face a deep pink all the way into the vows.

 

 

“Hey, Riza, thanks for coming! You’re even lovelier than Roy can muster,” Maes slurs-slash-shouts into Riza’s ear, his arm wrapped around his wife Gracia’s shoulder. “Right, sweetheart?”

“You’re beautiful, darling,” Gracia agrees. “Thank you for coming out here.”

“It was a lovely wedding,” Riza tells them. “It’s my first time in Central, too.”

“How do you like it so far? Where did Roy bring you?”

“Uh—”

Roy clears his throat loudly, placing his champagne flute on the table. “Shall we dance, Gracia?” he asks in the face of Maes’ loud laughter.

“I’ll take Riza, then, if you don’t mind,” Maes concedes as he extends a hand for Riza to take. He leads Riza smoothly into the dancefloor, keeps a semi-professional distance between them. Riza fears her hand is clammy when she took Maes’, but he acts like it isn’t or like he hasn’t noticed. “Can I ask you something, Riza? It’s just that Roy never mentioned it.”

“Sure.”

“How did you meet?”

Riza laughs, the past three months feeling like ages ago, birthdays included. “At the beginning of the semester, my best friend’s roommate moved out and Roy moved in, and things… just happened.”

Maes nods, telling her, “If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you were college sweethearts, that’s how close you look.”

Not knowing what to say, Riza can only manage, “Thanks. It does feel like I’ve known him all my life.”

“I have the privilege of that, and I’m happy someone else is gonna be there for him.” He steps forward, she steps back; she doesn’t think about it till she stumbles and he catches her with his brows furrowed.

“Sorry,” she rushes to say. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Freak out?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles as shame colours her face. Her eyes shift towards Roy and Gracia, who are laughing along with the music. “Don’t tell him, please.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Riza,” Maes reassures her. “Come on, put a smile on your face again before he thinks I bullied you and kicks my ass for it.”

Just like that, Roy and Gracia move closer to them and switch partners. Roy’s clumsier than Maes, keeping in rhythm just enough to seem competent, but he laughs off every misstep. It lets Riza’s tension melt off her shoulders so she could look into Roy’s face with ease, enjoying the weight of his hands on her waist.

Because of the music, Roy has to lean in and whisper, “You look amazing, Riza.”

“You’re drunk,” Riza tells him with a giggle, her hand now resting on the back of Roy’s neck. “You’re so handsome.”

“Am I?” Roy goads.

“The handsomest,” Riza tells him as she pulls him in for a kiss.

Roy pulls away with a blissful smile. “What’d you talk about with Maes?” he then asks.

“How we met…”

“Havoc and I smoked up that night,” Roy reminisces. “Bet you didn’t know that.”

“Jean told me,” Riza teases him. “Don’t worry, that didn’t ruin your reputation.”

“I was dumb enough to do that myself.”

“You did,” Riza concedes. She brings herself closer to him, her lips practically on his neck. His breathing quickens, heart thrumming underneath her fingers. “I love you regardless.”

That makes them both stop, and Riza’s fingertips run cold.

“What was that?” Roy asks, smile colouring his tone, his head bent close to hers.

“Forget it,” Riza gasps. She lets go but not before she catches Roy’s smug, wicked grin in the purple light. “I’m gonna get more champagne.”

“Oh no, not until you repeat what you said,” Roy says as he advances towards her.

Riza shrieks, “Roy Mustang!” before backing up against a table. She lets Roy catch her without a struggle, her laughter ringing against the music.


	4. i'm odds and ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The roads we are on diverge and lead us places, but they all come back together eventually."_ -Riza Hawkeye, Literature in English class of 20XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay it's finally over 💘 writing this chapter was hard for me so i'm super happy that i got to finish it. hopefully i got to give everyone a good ending and in my mind i'm excited for what the future brings for each of them. also you get a 30% increase from the previous chapters' average length hooray~
> 
> some life updates: i'm graduating in two weeks (!!) and i got accepted into medical school~ hopefully medical school doesn't cut into my fic writing time lmao
> 
> chapter title: a-ha - take on me

“Breakfast?” Riza invites with a nudge of her hand to Roy’s sleeping form. She’s gotten used to this, waking up without needing to rush to class, waking up next to him, glad for the warmth he gave each night.

Roy doesn’t move, only grunting to let her know he’s awake, so Riza sighs, “You have to submit your syllabi today. Have you finished any of them?”

Roy grunts again then buries his head deeper into the pillow.

“Rebecca’s coming back tonight,” Riza tries again. “We’re having a girls’ night out.”

“Have fun,” Roy mumbles from the pillow.

Huffing, Riza lays down on top of him. She enjoys the press of her chest against his back and his pleased hum when she wraps her arms around him and presses a kiss to his nape. “ _Hey_. My professors already uploaded theirs.”

“Go back to sleep, Riza,” Roy grouses. With her cheek resting between his shoulder blades, she’s considering it, but—

“I have to go to work.” She rolls off him and curls up next to him, not really going anywhere.

“Fine,” Roy bites out. “I’m getting up.”

“Good.”

“Also, Riza,” Roy begins as he maneuvers himself so he’s on top, caging a giggling Riza between his arms, “no one cares about the syllabus.”

 

 

“How’s life with the professor?” Rebecca teases her as she places her cocktail before her smug mouth and takes a sip.

“Don’t say that so loud. People are gonna get the wrong idea,” Riza admonishes her.

Rebecca laughs and shrugs, Jean’s jacket moving down to reveal bare shoulders. “Trust me, no one’s gonna believe Roy Mustang’s a professor now. So?” she prompts again.

“It’s good,” Riza answers with a smile. She stirs the ice inside her gin tonic then plays with the side of the glass with her fingers. “Surprisingly productive. How’s Jean?”

“His place is heav- _en_. It’s so charming down there, my spirit felt refreshed and cleansed,” Rebecca pronounces. “But you know how I got him those little nicotine patches, right? It took him so long to get used to them, I thought I was gonna have to kill him ‘cause he wouldn’t stop bitching.”

“I’m glad he stopped, though,” Riza offers. “Now Roy doesn’t have a reason to smoke either.”

They toast drinks once more. Rebecca puts down her glass and starts, “How do you feel about a beach trip after graduation?”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Good, ‘cause the nearest beach is in Creta and I’m telling you now so you can save up. Jean’s getting that old pick-up truck of his. We’ll do a little road trip sitch,” Rebecca tells her with a wide grin.

Riza giggles. “Planning summer already?”

“Nothing like the promise of fun to light up the tunnel ahead. Seems kinda hard to be sentimental about graduating when you’ve got all this shit left to do.”

“I’ll say,” Riza agrees. Her thesis is thankfully done, but now there are other things to think about, plans for the future and just generally getting her shit together. The thought of it makes her reach for her drink again. “I’ll work extra hours this sem. For the beach.”

“For the beach!” Rebecca downs her drink and orders another.

 

***

 

“I’m looking for a light bulb,” Riza begins. She fidgets under Breda’s raised brow but continues, “I can’t remember what we use at home, but it’s white, I think…”

“Right this way, ma’am,” Breda sighs before leading her down the aisle where the light fixtures and bulbs are. When he assures himself there’s no one else around, he drops his formalities and says, “Thanks for coming, Hawkeye.”

Just like herself, Breda couldn’t leave problems to be handled through phone, so in the privacy of a deserted hardware store aisle, Riza asks him, “What’s going on?

“Dude, I’m stressed as fuck. On top of my seemingly neverending thesis, these law school apps are killing me and earlier I got mansplained to about fucking power tools. _Me_ , a _man_. Gender is a prison.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“I got most of the legwork out of the way, but I need help with this essay Central’s asking. I have no idea what to fucking say.”

“The personal statement? I’d talk about how Hannah Arendt inspired you to go on the path of justice,” she teases.

“As opposed to falling for the bleakness of my everyday life?” Breda deadpans. That doesn’t stop him from thinking about it, however. “That’s honestly not a bad idea.”

“Is it even true?”

“You’d have to be a massive dumbass to not see how correct she is.”

Riza lets out a laugh. “Fair point.”

“Can I send you the draft tonight for proofreading?”

“Sure.”

“I get out in fifteen. Let’s grab dinner?”

Riza buys herself a pack of batteries on the way out and loiters around the entrance while waiting for Breda. He comes out without the red vest of the store, a different shirt put on underneath his jacket, and they fall into step, walking hastily in the cold air.

“I gave them my notice,” Breda tells her. “I know I need the money, but I wanna have fun this semester, so I got a job at that café with the cute barista girl.” He puts air quotation marks around ‘barista’ but is smiling anyway.

“I’ll drop by,” Riza promises. “You know, Izumi’s starting to make me feel bad about graduating and leaving her.”

“Who, your manager at McD’s?”

She nods and goes, “Yeah, her. Her husband makes me lunch sometimes, like when I work weekends.”

He lets out a low whistle at that. “You gonna be the manager of a McD’s now?”

“A job’s a job,” Riza retorts, but with no other ideas, she’s spent more time considering it than anyone would’ve let her. “Do you know when that job fair’s coming to campus?”

“That?” Breda scoffs. “As if they’ll have eyes for the likes of us humanities majors, even if _you’re_ the faculty awardee. Though I heard from Maria Ross that they snagged a publishing house this year, so maybe you should check that out.”

“I should. Thanks for the heads up.”

Breda gives her another raised brow, this time with the question: “Did you talk to your boyfriend about this?”

“He’s in the academe, so, like, he’s never bothered with looking for a job before,” Riza deflects, but she can already feel her face flushing from the callout. “To be fair, I haven’t talked about this to anyone.”

“Huh.” Breda ends up scratching his head for a bit before saying, slowly, “Guess Havoc wouldn’t be much help since he’s got that family business to run. Catalina?”

“She did that internship last summer and they want her back.”

“Damn. Call me flattered, then, Hawkeye.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “The self-deprecation ends here, Heymans.”

 

 

Coming home to her apartment with Rebecca in the living room painting her nails instead of to Roy’s place while he’s watching the same playlist of general chemistry tutorial videos gives Riza a second of dissonance before it dissipates into relief from the long day behind her. She sits down next to Rebecca and starts scrolling through her phone, checking out an Instagram story of Jean giving Kain Fuery and Denny Brosch their first ever blunt (“COOL PEOPLE”).

Roy’s in the background, laptop propped up on his crossed legs. He’s leaning on his curled up fist and gives Jean the finger with his free hand when Jean zooms in on him (“LOSER”).

Riza shows the whole thing to Rebecca, who says, “Look at him. He’s got a stick up his ass,” with a laugh.

“This is rare,” Riza tells her as she sinks further into the couch and sets her phone down.

“Oh, right. He’s a Libra, isn’t he? Hey, have you told him about the beach trip?”

“You want him to come with?”

“Of course I do. He’s our friend! Call him right now and ask!”

Smiling, Riza picks up her phone again and dials Roy’s number. “ _Hey_ ,” he answers.

“Put it on speaker!” Rebecca instructs, which Riza does. “Roy, are you free this summer?”

“ _I can be. Why?_ ”

“You wanna go to the beach with us? We’re doing a road trip to Creta after graduation,” Rebecca asks.

For the pregnant pause Roy leaves them with, Riza has to mention, “Don’t feel pressured.”

“ _No, no, I was just checking the calendar. I can go._ ”

“Perf! I’m holding you on to that, okay?”

“ _Of course, Rebecca,_ ” comes Roy’s dry reply through the phone.

Riza turns off the speaker and brings the phone to her ear. teasing him with, “Saw Jean’s story.”

Roy snorts at that and she can just imagine him rolling his eyes. “ _Come over and save me_ ,” he says.

“Tempting,” Riza concedes, “but you could come here, too. There’s sangria in the fridge.”

Roy hums and reminds her, “ _I’m being serious, like you told me to._ ”

“Checking quizzes already?”

“ _Someone got a perfect score with all the bonus points._ ”

“Oh? That’s great!”

“ _It’s a really satisfying feeling,_ ” Roy admits. Riza can tell that he’s beaming with pride, which makes her smile, too, and curl up into the couch with her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder and her laptop now open on her lap, Rebecca gone into her room to watch a movie while her nails dry. “ _If I get a good midterm evaluation, they’ll consider upping my load next semester_.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Riza reassures him. “You’ll get those teaching credits ASAP.”

“ _I kinda like teaching. It seems like something I want to do full-time once my research is done,_ ” Roy then tells her.

“It’s only the beginning of the semester,” Riza teases.

Roy huffs out of indignation. “ _Sit in sometime. You’ll see_.”

“Have your students fallen for the hot professor yet?”

“ _The course is hard enough for them that I don’t have to worry about that_ ,” Roy tells her with a laugh. “ _Maybe if I taught Intro to Poetry?_ ”

“Ha-ha.” On her laptop, Riza has a blank document on. It’s saved as her resumé file, and she flits between that and the template the school’s employment office put up on their website. For what seems like a good amount of time, she considers asking Roy for help but then thinks she can manage writing a resumé on her own, and so closes the file to work on later.

As if he can read her mind, he mentions, “ _Hey, I heard there’s a job fair next month._ ”

“Yeah, there is. I’m worried it’ll mostly be corporate jobs, though,” Riza sighs. “Maybe I should’ve been a business major instead.”

It’s nice to hear Roy laugh, especially when he says, “ _That’d be a waste of your time_ ,” afterwards. It makes her giggle and her uneasiness bubble away.

“Don’t let Jean hear you say that.”

“ _He already knows I think corporate slaves are shit. Right, Havoc?_ ”

“ _Look, man, I’m not disagreeing with you_ ,” Riza can hear Jean say. “ _I’m just a guy going through college to make his parents happy._ ”

“Put me on speaker,” Riza tells Roy. When he does, she speaks up: “Jean, your parents are proud of you.”

“ _Fuck yeah, Riz! First of my family to get a fuckin’ degree!_ ”

When Roy talks to her again, it’s off speaker. “ _Are you free on Friday?_ ”

“I might be,” Riza answers coyly.

“ _How does dinner sound?_ ”

“Depends on who’s cooking.”

“ _I am,_ ” Roy says.

“Got it,” Riza says, her voice lilting into singsong. “By the way, Breda sent me his law school essay.”

“ _What for?_ ”

“I promised him I’ll take a look.”

Through the phone, the snort Roy lets out is muffled, his tone dry when he says, “ _Have fun with that_.”

“Have fun with those quizzes,” Riza retorts.

“ _Love you_.”

That gives Riza pause. She _knows_ Roy is smiling behind his phone, like he can feel the heat rise up her cheeks. But whatever. “Love you, too, Roy,” she says just before she hangs up.

 

***

 

“Brought wine,” Riza announces when she enters Jean and Roy’s apartment. It’s a fairly cheap bottle of red wine, only slightly better than the boxed stuff and definitely not imported, but some online reviews she read were nice enough about it: _a juicy, light-bodied wine resplendent with the scent of peaches_.

Roy takes the bottle from her hand then kisses her full on the mouth, hand low on her back. “Welcome home,” he teases. “Dinner’s about done.”

Riza leaves her things on the couch then goes to the little kitchen island and sits there, cupping her face as she watches Roy tend to halved new potatoes crisping up in a pan. There’s a steak resting on the cutting board that Roy cuts into fat strips, distributing them between two plates, fanned with their cut sides up to show off the rosy pink interior.

Meanwhile, she opens up the bottle of wine and pours them into the glasses Roy already had set out. They’re not wine glasses at all, but Riza sips on hers like it is, slowly, savouring, swirling the wine in her mouth to get that peach taste it promised. it would have.

“Did you really cook that?” Riza asks.

“It’s amazing what you can learn on the Internet,” Roy answers smoothly as he places a plate in front of her and takes the seat on the counter beside her with his own plate. “I got my first paycheck, so I thought we’d celebrate and eat something that isn’t takeout.”

“You know it’s not about the food,” Riza says, but she cuts into the steak anyway and takes her first appreciative bite. “It’s good!”

“Why do you sound surprised?” Roy demands.

Riza lets out a laugh when she pours him a glass of wine, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. “I like a good surprise,” she tells him. Her thumb is rubbing circles on his cheek, her hand cupping his face. “Thanks, Roy.”

“Anything for you,” he tells her. “So when are you sitting in my class?”

She hums, thinking about it. “It’s at ten-thirty, right? I’d have to leave early to make it to class.”

“I have that other one but it’s at eight.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and jokes, “As if.”

“I’ve been known to be late to that class once or twice,” Roy admits with a shy laugh of his own. “I’m just glad it’s not lab, otherwise my students won’t get anything done. Come in just once. I promise I’ll be early.”

Before Riza puts a roasted potato in her mouth, she says, “Should I lower my expectations?”

Roy frowns. “You’re killing me.”

“I promise that’s not my intention,” she says with a laugh then eats her potato.

After eating, they get to work on finishing the wine. Roy fills up Riza’s glass sloppily and almost to the brim, so she’s left feeling like she’s drowning in it, but it makes her warm, and she appreciates the slight tartness at the back of her throat. She turns in her chair to face him, her hand steady on his knee as they talk.

He’s not asking her about her plans, which she’s grateful for. He asks about stuff like what Ed’s been up to at work, how her aesthetics elective is going, how aesthetics is interesting because it doesn’t judge an object on its own merits so much as question the entire system with which an object is critiqued and therefore from which it gains merit.

By the time the wine is finished, Riza is warm all over and stumbling over her feet to Roy’s room, where she lets Roy press her against the door, heat flush against her own. He’s laying warm, openmouthed kisses all over her jaw, almost just breathing in her skin. Their mouths meet and Riza just lets out this pleased _sigh_ , melting into his lips, fingers in his hair.

He keeps his hands wrapped around her waist, palms flat on her back. She pushes herself forward, as if to make him catch her, so he holds on to her tighter and kisses her deeply. It’s addicting, this slowness, the languidness with which she undoes his belt, the button of his trousers, zipper down then it’s her fingers on the waistband, tugging the pants down.

Roy steps backwards and out of them, nudging it to the side with his foot, then he gets rid of his socks. The back of his knees hit the bed and he ends up sitting, hands lifitng up the hem of her dress to lay themselves flat on her stocking-covered thighs, his cheek following suit in his tipsiness.

Riza cradles his head. “Aw, baby,” she coos.

“You’re wearing a garterbelt,” Roy points out, his words slurred slightly. His hand circles around to meet the back of her thigh, cupping her ass. She’s wearing a pair of lace panties, which she knows he noticed from how he’s grinning.

“Becky helped me out.”

“She’s the best.”

Riza can’t help her giggles by then as she caresses her tipsy and tired boyfriend. He pulls down her panties and leans back. Her knees go week when he touches her, his other hand keeping her dress well above her hip so he could see.

In her impatience, Riza gets rid of her dress entirely, pulling it above her head and tossing it to the side. She follows with her bra, her nipples tightening in the cold air.

When he looks up at her, his mouth falls slack, the tops of his cheekbones flushed. Riza takes hold of his wrists and places them above his head while she settles down on his lap, using her free hand to align him with her entrance till she’s all the way in and she can free her hands to work on the buttons of his shirt just to feel the muscles of his chest underneath the fabric.

She lifts her hips up and gently brings herself down again, the effort making her gasp a bit before Roy kisses her, his hands back to cupping her ass. She goes slowly, enjoying how her thighs quiver and her arms are wrapped around his neck. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her, his eyes slipping shut only when he leans in to kiss her.

When Roy finds himself again, he lies down on his back and drags Riza with him, her palms flat on his chest for support as she grinds her hips down into him, picks up her pace.

Her hair falls over her shoulders and her face when she leans over him, making her throw her head back.

“God, you’re so sexy,” Roy groans.

Riza grins at that. “Hmm? You think so? You like me like this?”

“I like you any way.”

“Of course you do.” Riza brings her head down to kiss him, letting him roam his hands all over her back. She plays and tugs with his hair and nibbles on his bottom lip, feeling sleep tug her eyelids down but also heat in her gut as she listens to Roy fall apart underneath her.

“Riza,” Roy begins, “I’m—” He helps Riza get off of him, throwing his head back into the pillow when Riza reaches for his dick and strokes him while laying on her side, mouthing at his jaw. He gives a shiver before he’s coming all over her fingers and he blindly seaches for her mouth to bring up to his.

She brings her stained fingers up to her mouth, licking them clean.

“God,” Roy breathes out with a laugh, unable to take his eyes off of her. He takes her hand and kisses her palm, trailing his mouth down her body till his head’s resting between her thighs.

It’s cold when he opens her legs, but she only shivers when he places her tongue on her. He licks into her languidly, eyes closed as if he’s savouring the taste. She grabs his hair and ruts into his mouth till she comes.

“I love you,” Roy murmurs into her ear once he settles into the bed next to her.

Wrapped in his arms, Riza feels sleep calling to her, warm and secure. “I love you, too,” she says with a yawn. She rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes, letting the way Roy’s stroking her hair lull to her sleep.

 

***

 

“When are you sending in your notice?” Izumi asks.

It’s after the breakfast rush on a Sunday morning. The screaming kids are placated with hotcakes and hash browns, a two-for-two carb punch that’ll knock them right out on the car ride back home. College students have nursed their hangovers and gone back to the dorms to do school work, creating this lazy lull before lunch rush (and the end of Riza’s shift).

“Not sure yet,” Riza answers honestly. Then, as a joke, she adds, “Maybe never.”

“As much as that delights me, I know better.” Izumi puts the pen cap in her mouth as she scribbles on the inventory logbook, making calculations for the next batch of supply orders.

Riza busies herself with wiping down the counter. Someone approaches her and asks for her unfinished food to be packed for takeaway. Riza complies, packing the food with Izumi barely batting an eye at her direction.

“See, kid, you make my job easy,” Izumi says once the customer has left. “It’d be nice to see you go places.”

Riza hides her smile by clearing out the breakfast platters to make way for the regular menu. “Thanks, Izumi. That means a lot,” she manages to say.

“Anytime, Riza.”

“Could you help me make a resumé?”

Izumi thinks about it, tapping her pen against her lip as she hums. “Later, if you’re free. Come over.”

 

 

“Thank you, honey,” Izumi sighs at her husband, who puts a plate full of meat in front of her.

“Thanks, Sig,” Riza echoes at her own plate.

“So where are you applying to, Riza?” Sig asks.

“I’m not so sure yet,” Riza answers as she cuts up a piece of meat. “There’s a publishing house that’ll visit campus, but that’s the only lead I have so far.”

Izumi nods and offers, “That’s a pretty good place to start, I think. You know anything about publishing?”

“I’d have to show my capabilities as a writer,” Riza supplies, “if I want to be an editor.”

“Do you have a portfolio?”

“I do.”

“Ideally, it’d be good to focus your resumé to the job you’re applying for,” Izumi begins. “But you can keep things that aren’t related if they display a good set of skills that you have.”

“Like my job at McDonald’s?”

“I know it’s not much, but, hell, I’ll write you a recommendation.”

Somewhere in the back of Riza’s mind, she knows she shouldn’t be surprised—she’s done a good job, has been commented on that multiple times, and the fact that she’s having dinner at her boss’s house is enough proof. But she can’t help it, this surprised bubbling feeling. She goes back to her food, blushing and thankful.

“It’s more than enough,” Riza tells her. “Really. You’re a great manager.”

“Not bad for a housewife, huh?” Izumi jokes.

 

***

 

“I told you this was gonna be a corporate shitfest,” Breda sneers as he and Riza walk through the a portion of their campus set up with dozens of booths. “Hawkeye, let’s get outta here.”

“Not yet,” Riza insists. “You said there’d be that publishing house. We should at least check every booth and make sure we haven’t missed it.”

Breda sighs, “It’ll be there somewhere. Let’s find it quick then get the fuck away from this place.”

As they walk through the maze of booths, Riza notices her literature professor towering over a particular booth and heads in that direction without a second thought. “Professor Armstrong,” she says by way of greeting, “I didn’t know you owned a publishing house.”

Armstrong looks at her with a hearty smile. “Newly minted! It’s a passion project of mine to support young and talented writers!” he announces.

“What kind of projects has the company been doing so far?” Riza asks. Breda stands behind her, chatting up his friend who happens to be passing by.

“It’s been interesting, Miss Hawkeye,” Armstrong tells her. “Currently there’s a poetry anthology in the works, as well as a zineon liminal writing started by a group of my former students… Are you interested in pitching a project?”

Riza has to let out a nervous laugh. “Not entirely, sir. I was hoping you’d have openings for some positions.”

“Oh, yes, we certainly need more editors with all these new projects coming in. Do you have a resumé?”

Just the one, really, which Riza pulls out of the binder stashed in her binder. She hands it over to Armstrong then says, “Thank you, sir.”

His moustache twitches as he smiles at her. “It’d be good for you to do more reading while we go over your papers,” he suggests. “Alchemy Review is a particularly compelling one, absolutely spectacular.”

“I’ll definitely take note of that, sir.”

“The Homunculus also has a magnificent set of contributors,” Armstrong mentions, his hand now tucked under his chin as he thinks of more off the top of his head. “They had an issue called ‘The Seven Deadly Sins,’ which was a series of non-fiction pieces centered around the theme. I think you should look into that first.”

RIza nods and smiles, asking, “Is it alright if I email you about them?”

“Of course, Miss Hawkeye. I’d be happy to talk about them with you when you’ve been able to read some.”

“Thanks for taking in my resume, too, sir.”

As he goes over her resumé, he gives her a nod. “Do get back to me if I haven’t sent you an email within the month.”

 

 

“No way, old man Armstrong?” Jean says with a low whistle. “How do you feel about that job, Riz?”

“It’s a lot more interesting than I expected,” Riza admits. “It’s a lot like being in that postmodern class again, definitely.”

“No wonder Maria was able to get him for the career fair,” Breda mutters, his bottle of beer already poised near his lips. “Guess he’s looking for same-minded people.”

Riza picks up a buffalo wing to put on her plate. “You guys already know how much I struggled in that class,” she says.

“Riz, it’s not as if you weren’t able to work past that,” Jean tells her. “I think this is a great job to apply for fresh out of college ‘cause your employer already knows who you are and he’s rich enough to fund passion projects or whatever, so I’m sure he’ll pay well.”

Breda nods and says, “I hate to say it, but Havoc’s got a point. _And_ he’s got that Armstrong name, which’ll look really impressive on your resumé.”

“You don’t have to take it or follow up on it or anything,” Jean drawls. “It’s your call, after all, but just know that you got a pretty sweet opportunity here.”

Riza pauses to think about it. “You’re right, guys.”

“Yeah!” Jean heartily agrees with a raise of his fist wrapped around his beer. “Cheers, Riz! Anyway, Breda, when are law school results coming?”

“Don’t fucking remind me,” Breda grouses. “Should be next month, I think.”

“Dude, we should throw a fucking party. There’s no way your smart ass ain’t getting in somewhere.”

“I applied to nearly every decent school in the fucking country,” Breda points out. “But at this point, it’s Central or bust for me.”

“Why’re you doubting yourself, huh? _‘Course_ you’re making it to Central.”

Breda sighs and just drinks his beer, rolling his eyes at Riza to make her laugh.

“You’re always so optimistic, Jean,” Riza says.

“Must be nice going through life with his eyes,” Breda jokes.

Jean scoffs at that, reminding them, “Have y’all forgotten that we as a generation face an existential crisis? We can only try our best not to give up.”

Breda and Riza stare at him, unable to comprehend what he just said. Then, they burst out laughing.

“Dude, you sound like a fucking Facebook post.”

 

***

 

Jean pushes a drink straight into Riza’s hand. “Hey, come in. Mustang’s already pretty smashed.”

“What, am I his nanny?” Riza asks.

“I’m just saying. It’s fucking funny.”

“What’s fucking funny?” Roy asks as he comes closer to Riza to wrap his arms around her waist, his face nuzzled against her nape.

“He says it’s you,” Riza tells him with a laugh before she raises her drink to her lips. “Come on, let’s go sit down.”

Roy untangles himself from her and lets her lead him to the couch. He takes her legs and places them on his lap, running his hands over the bare skin. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” he complains.

Riza gives him a smile and rests her cheek on her curled up fist. “It’s only been about a week, darling,” she drawls.

“But I missed you.”

“How do you get away with saying stuff like that?”

“Because I mean it.” He leans closer to her to whisper, “Can I have your drink?”

She pushes him away with a laugh then drains her drink to about half the glass. “Later,” she promises him. “How were your classes?”

Roy frowns when he sinks back into his place on the couch. “I don’t wanna talk about that,” he starts. “What’ve you been up to this week?”

She handed in her notice at McDonald’s, hung out with Ed and Izumi and Kain as a result of it, studied for midterms, holed up in her room to read the digests Armstrong had been sending her through email. All of that she tells Roy, who listens as though all her words are slipping past his ears but he tries not to let it show.

“Are—Are you having fun?”

Riza can’t help her laughter at that, hiding her grin behind her drink. “I’m having fun,” she says as she brings herself closer to him, placing her now empty glass on the side table. He places a hand on the small of her back to keep her steady, his other arm coming in to wrap around her waist.

“I meant with the… the—all of that.”

“Use proper words, Roy,” she teases him, her thumbs coming up the sides of his face to caress the redness in his cheeks.

Rebecca passes by to give Riza another a drink and to say, “Hey, lovebirds, can we steal a couple minutes of your time?”

“Of course,” Riza answers with a clear of her throat and her face all heated up. She rights herself up then just leans on Roy’s side, smiling when he brings his head down to kiss the crown of her head, his hand steady on her shoulder.

Everyone else in their little study group is gathered around the living room in similar-but-not-quite fashion, sprawled all over the floor with glasses of Jean’s mix.

It looks a bit like Jean’s about to pass a blunt around, but instead he announces, “I got in this company I’ve been eyeing for a while now. It’s over at Central, so I’m moving out over the summer.”

“Yeah, we got that beach trip coming up, first of all,” Rebecca adds from her seat by the kitchen counter, “so if any of you guys aren’t free after graduation, now’s the time to tell me.”

“Catalina, you’ve already made sure we had it marked in our social calendars,” Breda deadpans.

“Being one-hundred-and-ten percent sure won’t hurt anybody!” Rebecca protests.

“Hey, Havoc, you looking for a roommate?” Breda then asks. “I got my acceptance letter from Central Law.”

“Fuck yeah! What did I tell you, man? WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY?”

“So are we rooming again or what?” Breda prompts. “Sorry, Catalina.”

“Oh, no, it’s no problem,” Rebecca chirps. “I’m really happy for you, Heymans. Plus, I kinda got my own place at Central waiting for me.”

At that, Falman lets out a low whistle. “Guess I’m gonna be alone freezing my ass off at Briggs come September,” he mentions.

“You got that research scholarship with Professor Armstrong?” Riza asks. “That’s amazing, Vato.”

Roy congratulates him before surreptitiously stealing a sip from Riza’s drink. “I got more classes to teach next semester,” he says. “Plus, I think I’ll be done with my thesis by next year.”

“Hot professors always get better evals,” Rebecca jokes. “Good job, Roy! I _knew_ you were gonna be an amazing professor.”

“Was it written in the stars?” Roy asks.

“You’re a Libra sun, Capricorn moon! Great ambition and a penchant for individuality, yet still likeable…” Rebecca mentions as she ticks each point off her finger. “Of _course_ it’s written in the stars, but it’s also one-hundred percent _you_.”

 

 

“Are you sure you can walk?” Riza asks, concerned as she automatically reaches out her arms to keep Roy steady as they walk from his apartment to hers.

“Absolutely,” Roy slurs.

“We could’ve just stayed at your place,” Riza insists.”

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Roy tells her. “Away from the others.”

“Okay…” Riza says slowly, though her stomach’s already churning by an ungodly amount. She kept quiet during the party, drinking when Jean or somebody else would call for shots, and she’s fairly tipsy, but it’s clearing away quickly in the crisp air. “What is it?”

“I got a lease on this apartment that’s nearer campus,” he begins while stumbling over his feet. “I’m getting serious about teaching, Riza.”

Even so, Riza finds it funny that he’s saying all this while hanging on to her, drunk as he is.

“That publishing house… where is it based?”

“Here.”

He stops walking as they approach a bus stop so he could sit down, breathing heavy and head making a noise when it meets the LED-lit wall. “Can you stay with me, RIza?”

“I’m right here,” Riza reassures him as she settles down on the seat next to him.

“I meant…” His hands wander, unknowing. “Like _stay_ —live with me.”

“What?”

“Live with me?”

Riza can’t believe her own ears. “I haven’t gotten the job,” she argues. “I don’t even know if I want it.”

“Do you not want to be with me?”

“It’s not that,” Riza amends with a sigh, taking her hands in his. “I love you. You know that. But it’s freaking me out to have all these plans when I don’t know what I want to do with my life.”

“You… don’t?”

Riza shakes her head, and he frowns.

“Why?”

“Because—” She stops herself before she could really _speak_ , lips pressed together in a thin line till she feels them ready to burst. Then, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens them again, she sees Roy clearly in the sobering light of the bus stop. “Graduating was all I ever wanted,” she explains. “Getting a scholarship, working odd hours… If I could do it all by myself I’d feel invincible.”

“And you did it,” Roy says.

“Yeah, I did… And now I don’t know what to do. The fire I felt all the years I’ve been here, it’s gone.”

“Is that job you’re applying for not interesting to you?”

“It is,” Riza protests. “I’d be happy if I get a position.”

Roy’s face furrows deeply, and he asks, “So why can’t you wait until you find out? Let that be your goal?”

“Because it’s a mean to an end,” she tells him, “not the end itself.”

Roy groans in frustration, withdrawing one of his hands from Riza’s hold to rub all over his face, run through his hair. “I don’t get it, Riz.”

Riza’s face heats up as she demands, “What’s there to get? Why can’t you just accept what I said at face value?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense to me!”

“That’s what I mean! It’s _my_ truth—” She stops herself again, thinking about how Roy would face something he doesn’t understand, how he squeezes every bit of malleability from it till he can make it resemble something that makes sense to him. So she has to help him now. “You know I do everything by myself,” she begins. “After my mom passed, it was—I waited… for my dad to stay home with me. He never did, of course, but what did I know?”

By then, Roy has his eyes averted from her, but Riza goes on, her thumbs massaging the back of his hand:

“I felt like I was running on autopilot. I did everything I was supposed to do—I stayed in school, I did jobs after school to get by. Some of my teachers pitched in to help with my college apps, so I thought I should go, if not for me, for them, to pay them back for their effort.

“So this is the endpoint for me. It’s been like this for as long as I can remember and now that I’m here…” She wants to float, render her own thoughts and siphon them away from her body.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—It wasn’t my place to make you feel… invalidated,” Roy says quietly, his free hand moving back up to his face to wipe at his eyes. It doesn’t hit her that he’s crying till she hears his choked up voice ask, “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s not that I don’t want to involve you with my life, I’m just scared of… getting you caught up in it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just… you worrying about me, especially since you’re so busy.”

If Roy’s laughing didn’t sound so mangled because of his crying, Riza would laugh, too, just to ease a weight off her chest. “God, Riza,” he says, “let me worry about you, _please_. I want to do that for you.”

At that, Riza does find herself laughing. She ruffles Roy’s hair and wipes his tears with her thumbs, cupping his face in her hands. And she feels tears coming on that she lets roll down her cheeks when they arrive. She wants to speak but can’t; there’s something in her chest like bubbles, rising and warm.

“I love you so much,” he tells her. “I’d worry about you even if you don’t want me to.”

“Are you still drunk?” she manages to tease him.

“A little,” he admits. “Let’s go home.”

Riza nods and kisses him on the forehead then his mouth and feeling something tremble (probably her own). “Let’s,” she agrees.

 

 

She curls up closer to him on the bed and rests his head on his chest. “Thank you, Roy. I love you.”

 

***

 

THE DAILY EASTERN, 15 APRIL 20XX

_Join our campus mystic_ **_Rebecca Catalina_ ** _as she dishes out the weekly horoscope!_

HOROSCOPE FOR **VIRGO** (23 August - 22 September) — Listen up, it’s cusp week. Active, initiative Aries gives way to persevering, dependable Taurus. If you’re on the verge of a breakout, fear not—this is the perfect time for new beginnings! Let go of your rationalizations, Virgo, and just. be. yourself!!

 

***

 

“Where are you going?” Riza asks. It’s two am on the week before finals and she watches Rebecca race through the living and shrug on the hoodie that’s been lying on the couch.

“Library,” Rebecca says. “Heymans called me and said he found Jean passed out, but he had that paper due at midnight, you know? God, what if he didn’t get to turn it in?”

Riza sets her laptop’s screen down and stands up to follow Rebecca out their apartment. For two am, the streets are crowded with students stumbling home, a general cloud of fatigue hanging over all of them, even as Riza and Rebecca sprint towards the library.

When they get there, they find Jean facedown on the desk, his laptop’s screen pitch black. Rebecca lowers herself down to wake him up, murmuring in his ear, “Honey, wake up,” while shaking his shoulder.

Rebecca keeps shaking him till he groans awake and lifts his head away from the desk, a piece of paper stuck to his cheek.

“Did you get to turn your paper in?” Riza asks.

“Yeah, I sent that shit in then crashed,” Jean says with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Becks, did I worry you?”

Rebecca rolls her eyes then says, “Just a bit. Did you even shower at all this week? You look like a truck just ran all over you.”

Jean laughs at that, not afraid to be loud since it’s just them in that corner of the library, the staff gone for the night. “You’re probably right. I feel like shit.”

“Go on, get your ass home and sleep properly,” Rebecca urges him.

“Where’s Heymans?” Riza wonders aloud. “He’s the one who called Becky.”

“Fuck, that bastard didn’t even wake me up,” Jean grouses. He finally gets to fixing his thingsa and they walk out of the library together. Once out, he suggests, “Hey, how about we grab some coffee?”

“I fucking told you to go to sleep,” Rebecca complains.

“Come on, I’m awake now. Let’s go to Buccaneer’s for pancakes.”

Rebecca sighs, “Whatever. I guess it beats going back home to do my thesis.”

“That’s the spirit! How about you, Riz?”

Riza offers him a smile. “Yeah, it can wait,” she tells him.

“So did Armstrong get back to you about the job?” Rebecca prompts.

“Yeah,” Riza answers. “It’s a pretty generous offer, too, and the office is here at East…”

“What, that’s great, Riz! I knew you were gonna get the job like”—Rebecca snaps her pristinely manicured fingers—“that.”

“Have you told Mustang yet?”

Riza frowns, and after they settle down into a booth in the only lit setion of the diner, she says, “Not yet. I think I’ll tell him after I make a decision.”

“Really? Why?”

Jean goes ahead and orders coffees for everyone and a stack of pancakes for himself while Riza explains, “I’m thinking about going to law school. I’ve been asking Heymans about the process and everything, but I’m not entirely sure just yet.”

“It’s a whole new commitment,” Rebecca agrees with a nod. They get their coffee and she takes a sip of hers right away, raising her hand to ask for ice.

“Yeah, and if I can, I’d like to go to Central,” Riza says as she stares into the depths of her mug, hands wrapped around the sides. “I guess I’m just feeling awkward at the thought of asking him to wait for me while I go do all of that.”

“My advice?” Jean pipes up. “Don’t. Riz, he’s like a dog.”

Rebecca laughs so hard at that, asking Jean, “What does that even _mean_?” as she stirs the ice in her coffee with the metal straw she always brings with her, dropping another couple cubes in.

“You know, like he’s a good boy waiting for his master to come home.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Rebecca acknowledges. “He’s so sweet.”

Riza’s face heats up all the way to the roots of her hair, so she hides it by drinking her coffee while Jean and Rebecca laugh. “Quit it, you guys.”

“Oh, hon, I’m only teasing. You deserve someone that dedicated to you.”

 

 

They walk Jean over to his apartment. None of them are sleepy, especially with the sun starting to peek through the horizon. Jean invites them to stay over, but Rebecca declines, says she has so much left to do that she has to get going. So she kisses Jean and Riza waves Jean bye before they head home.

Rebecca lets out a yawn as she stretches her arms up, pausing in the middle of the staircase to do so. “Riz, I’m gonna nap when we get home, can you wake me up?”

“Sure.”

“You know, if you’re heading to Central, I’ll save my room space for you,” Rebecca tells her with a grin.

Riza matches her smile. “You’re the best as usual, Becky.”

“Don’t mention it, hon. Besides, you’re the perfect roommate. I wouldn’t be able to live with anyone else.”

 

***

 

“Here,” Riza says as she hands Roy a closed envelope over the table.

“Hm?” Roy looks up from the exams he’d been grading then opens the envelope. “This is mine?”

“Yeah. You’re the only one I can think of that I want at my graduation.”

Roy hums as he reads what’s on the ticket, nodding appreciatively. “What about your other ticket?” he asks.

She looks at the other ticket given to her, turning the ticket over in her hands, reading and rereading the gold-embossed date that she knows by heart. “I’ll give it to Izumi,” she decides.

“I can invite Mom and Van to come over,” Roy offers, “since Van’s on summer break. We can celebrate as a family.”

“A family,” Riza echoes. She leans back into her seat, breaking into a smile as she twirls a lock of hair around her finger. “I’d love that. Thank you.”

“I forgot to say, but as a member of faculty I’m required to attend,” Roy says while holding up the ticket. “I’ll hold on to it, though, and give it to Van.”

Before Roy gets back to grading, Riza mentions:

“I got the job.”

“That’s great! Are you taking it?”

“Yeah, but only for a year, I think. Armstrong already said he’s okay with it.”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna apply for law school,” Riza says. When Roy’s face twitches, the corners of his mouth turning up, she asks, “What?”

Roy shrugs, answering, “I’m happy for you, and I think it’s suited for you, that’s all.”

“I think so, too,” Riza agrees with a laugh. “I’m definitely not a creative type.”

He laughs, too, but says, “I was gonna say you’re the type to help people, Riz. I think you’d be a great one.”

“I’m aiming for Central,” Riza tells him. Jean telling her Roy is like a dog is playing relentlessly in her mind like a broken recording, which she tries not to laugh at.

“Liv’s school? Want me to tell her?”

“I could use a scholarship,” Riza jokes.

“I think you could get that all by yourself,” Roy reassures her.

“It’s just… a lot,” she admits. On top of that, she’d have considerably less time to work. “I’ll give myself time to prepare for the LSAT and just… see where it goes then, I guess.”

He nods at that. “It’s good that you have time, but don’t worry too much.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You always make it work. I really think you’ll make a great lawyer.”

 

***

 

Roy’s jaw drops when Riza, hidden behind a monstrous bouquet, introduces him to her grandfather. “Dean Grumman,” he says with an audible clearing of his throat before shooting Riza a look.

“Thanks for coming,” Grumman tells him while shaking his hand.

“I was required to, sir,” Roy reminds him with a sheepish grin, incredibly flustered under his masters robe and cap. “And I’m very proud of Riza.”

“As am I. Clearly she gets her brains from her mother’s side of the family,” Grumman teases her. Before Riza can retaliate, he pats both of them on the back. “I should be going. Lots of people to congratulate. We’ll celebrate another time.”

“Of course, sir.” Then, when Grumman’s finally out of earshot, Roy asks Riza, “Why didn’t you tell me your grandfather is the _dean_?”

Riza shrugs, the plastic wrapped around the bouquet crinkling. “I forget it myself most of the time,” she explains. She reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together. “Come on, let’s find Van and get the hell out of here.”

But not before Rebecca gets to them first, wrapping both of them in a warm, tight hug. She’s crying, the tears clinging to her false lashes. “Oh my god, Riz, I know we’re not leaving each other just yet but I miss you already,” she says before hugging Riza again. “And I’m _so_ proud of you, miss faculty awardee.”

Riza says, “I’ll be with you in Central soon, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I’m not,” she tells her with a flip of her hair. “Like I said, I got that space alll saved up for you.”

“I love you so much.” Riza hugs her again, squeezing her shoulders for good measure.

Rebecca leaves them to go look for Jean while Riza leads both of them away to a secluded classroom. She sighs at the sudden quiet and sets her bouquet down on one of the desks so she can sling her arms around Roy’s neck.

“Are we having a classroom quickie?” Roy teases her.

“Now’s my chance since they can’t take my diploma away,” Riza teases back. “I just wanna have a few minutes alone.” With heels on, it’s easier to lean into him and kiss him, just enjoying the plush feeling of his mouth against hers.

Roy stops briefly and moves his head back with a frown. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to see Vanessa calling, definitely to ask where the hell they’ve gone to. To his surprise, Riza picks up the phone and tells Vanessa they’ll meet at the library entrance in a few minutes.

“That should be enough time, right?” Riza says after she puts Roy’s phone on the desk, its screen facing down, and she kisses him again.

“It’s not a quickie, but I guess this is fine, too,” Roy concedes with a lopsided grin when they break away. “I love you, Riza.”

Riza gives him a wide smile. “I love you,” she tells him then pulls him back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter fucked up my old account so now i'm over at @[fuIIonmonet](https://twitter.com/fuIIonmonet)~


End file.
